After Lily
by corbinsky
Summary: AU Pre-Hogwarts to Year Three: News of Pettigrew's disappearance lures James Potter out of hiding on the night of October the thirty-first, leaving his wife and infant son Harry alone in Godric's Hollow. He returns to find Lily dead and Harry scarred for life. In his grief and guilt, James now has to raise his famous son on his own and prepare him for a cursed existence.
1. Chapter 1

**Rash Decisions **

It was not as if the broom really needed tweaking. It was merely a toy, a working replica of larger models with a charm only meant to keep it in the air for so long. Lily Potter was proud her one-year-old son, Harry, had mastered it so well in such a short time, but wasn't sure she liked the idea of her husband tinkering with it to make it go faster. "He's sure to fall, James," she warned him over her sink full of dishes as she washed while James Potter worked spells over the toy broom at the kitchen table. Harry was asleep in the nursery, though it had taken some convincing for him to let go of the broom long enough to lie down.

"I don't think so, Lily darling," James responded lightly, his brow set in concentration with his dark hair standing on end, giving him a frazzled appearance. "He's got a strong grip. Just this evening he took a turn around the sofa which nearly knocked him into the side table, but he veered out of it just fine. That's the skill of a natural born Seeker, that is."

"Or Chaser," Lily repressed a grin and rinsed a plate.

"Seeker," James was determined. "Potters are Seekers. See the trouble with this is," he went on about the broom in his hand, "it contains all sorts of safety precautionary spells to keep one from altering the acceleration."

"Well, perhaps the manufacturers don't wish to be responsible for toddlers careening into furniture at unreasonable speeds. Harry isn't exactly the proper age for such a toy anyway; I don't know what Sirius was thinking."

"He was thinking that his godson will be a skilled flyer and needs a good head-start," James replied proudly.

"He was thinking Harry is as talented as his father, you mean," Lily didn't hide the smile this time, glancing up from the sink to catch her husband's reaction.

"_I_ didn't say it," he didn't attempt to sound humble, "you did. But yes, that's about right."

"I don't blame him," Lily went on, "but it's not ideal. Harry can't even ride it in the garden. We've no place to let him fly free and couldn't leave the cottage even if we did." She stared vacantly out the window above the sink out into the still, October night. Occasional beams of light from torches danced against house fronts and garden walls along the sides streets of Godric's Hollow as youngsters darted about dressed in costume to celebrate Halloween. Lily couldn't help but feel a little jealous of their freedom.

"Only for a time, love," James tried to encourage her while still distracted by his project. "This war can't last forever. Harry has his whole life ahead of him; plenty of time to fly and play with other children, other witches and wizards like him."

"Other children in general, James," she corrected him. "He's only one. Don't assume too much too soon."

"Come now, Lily," James scoffed with a pointed wave of his wand at the broom levitating before his chair causing it to glow purple a few seconds, vibrating with a loud hum before going still. He frowned and glanced between his wand and the toy in mild frustration. "Harry's already shown magical abilities. I don't think we need to worry about that."

Lily knew it to be true and let the reprimand drop, though her husband's arrogance sometimes irked her. Sympathetic to Muggles, James Potter did not always share the same regard for Squibs. In Lily's opinion there was no difference. James would never admit he felt differently about them either and perhaps he did not, but his attitude often proved otherwise. Lily understood that he did not much care if a Squib could not do magic, but more if his son could not. Considering this, her annoyance diminished slightly to be replaced by fear. How would her son defend himself against the Dark Lord if he had no magical abilities?

Lily almost laughed to herself, draining the dirty dish water and drying her hands. What a thought to even consider. Of course Harry would be able to do magic. Little as he was, it was more than obvious that her only son would make a fine wizard someday. "Oh, James look," Lily was distracted from her thoughts by the sight of an owl approaching under the light of the street lamp outside the window. Pushing open the pane, she let in the crisp, frosty air and stood back to allow the great winged creature to fly into the kitchen and land on the back of an empty chair by the table. "What does Sirius have to say that couldn't wait until dinner tomorrow?"

James reached for the note tied to the owl's leg and removed it. There was no envelope, only a small scrap of paper rolled up with a hastily written message in his closest friend, Sirius Black's, messy script.

_Paid Wormtail a visit,_ it read._ He wasn't home, been gone a while from the looks of it. Something's up, I'm going to poke around, see what I can find. I'll be home later, send the bird back and I'll have an update returned. _

_ ~Padfoot_

"What's the matter?" Lily looked alarmed at the frown on her husband's face.

"Peter," James told her, handing over the note for her to read before releasing the bird back into the night and closing the window. She read it quickly and glanced up, meeting his eye and waiting for him to speak. James merely shrugged, not wanting to voice the possibility.

"He wouldn't," Lily was certain. "Not willingly."

"No not willingly," James concurred, though far less confident. "But they may have gotten to him. Voldemort may be keeping him captive for all we know."

"What do we do?" Lily's deep, green eyes grew wide. "Leave? We…we could go to my sister's—"

"No," James was not going to run and hide, certainly not at the detestable Dursleys'. "We don't know anything for sure. He could be anywhere. This is Peter we're talking about; he could be wandering about Diagon Alley or sitting in some Muggle pub drowning in a pint."

"James," Lily did not appreciate his poor humor.

"We'll find him," he assured her, leaving the kitchen for the front hall.

"We?" she became alarmed, following him. "You can't leave."

"I can't stay here," James pulled a traveling cloak from the closet near the door. "Not until I know for sure."

"Sirius will send word—"

"In his own sweet time, I'm sure," he tossed the cloak over his shoulders and fastened the clasp, turning to his wife with a look of determination she knew would be hard to break. "I'm just going to pop over to Peter's mother's. She'll know if something is amiss."

"That's the first place that Sirius will go. Just wait for him to send another message. Dumbledore told us not to leave, and he still has your Invisibility Cloak. The risk isn't worth it."

"You're worth it," he assured her while reaching for the door. "Harry's worth it." He was tired of relying on others for his family's safety; that was his job. "Just stay close to him. I'll be back in no time."

"Protective enchantments aren't any good if Peter gives us away." Lily held onto his arm, begging him with her eyes not to leave her.

"He won't," James said, stepping out into the frosty air. "I'll be right back, Lil." Crossing to the garden gate, he slipped through and disappeared.

Lily glanced nervously at the sky above the rooftops of the village before closing the door, locking it with her wand, and rushing upstairs. The door to Harry's room was ajar, a soft light filtered out into the hall from a lamp on his dresser. Lily moved quietly inside, hoping not to wake him. Harry did not so much as stir, his breathing steady in his deep sleep, rising and falling beneath the light comforter draped over him. Lily gazed down on her child, reaching out and lightly touching his dark hair with the tips of her fingertips.

* * *

James had no intention on looking for Wormtail at his mother's house. He wouldn't be there, and Mrs. Pettigrew would not know the whereabouts of her son. If James' suspicions were right, he knew exactly where Peter was, and he wasn't going to wait around for Voldemort to torture his friend into giving them up. James didn't care what Dumbledore said, it was his family and his life he was trying to protect.

Aparating outside of a tall garden gate, he ducked into the shadows along a line of shrubs before an obscured meadow looming in the mist. The home of the Lestranges was a dark and ominous abode, befitting of its inhabitants. From where James Potter stood, he could not see the actual manor itself; the Lestranges too had protective enchantments to keep undesirables from finding their location. The Order of the Phoenix knew the coordinates of the mansion, however, and had monitored the secretive comings and goings of Voldemort's band of Death Eaters for some time. James half expected Sirius to already be there but saw no one as he hid in the shadows and waited.

He did not have to wait long. Out of the gloom came the sound of running footsteps down a stone path. A figure cloaked in black moved rapidly through the iron gate as if it were made of smoke, passing out into the avenue in great haste. James hit the escaping Death Eater with a stunning spell before he could disaparate, and the body fell with a heavy thud to the ground.

Running forward, James turned the immobile form around to get a look at who it was he had stunned. Unable to speak or even blink his eyes, the scowling countenance of Severus Snape glared up at him. "Where is he?" James demand with his wand at his longtime enemy's throat. "What did he do with Pettigrew?" Grabbing the front of Snape's robes, he made sure he had a good hold on the putrid Death Eater before releasing the spell which held him. "Where's your Dark Lord, you bastard."

Snape wasn't foolish enough to go for his own wand, but grabbed James' fist and shoved him away in disgust. "Why are you here?" he asked in a mix of fury and alarm.

"You know damn well why I'm here. If Voldemort wants my family he's got to come through me first. So here I am, call him out why don't you?"

Scrambling to his feet, Snape thrust Potter off of him and stumbled back a few feet. His face was paler than usual, and enraged moisture swam before his deep, black eyes. "You arrogant fool. You just left her? How could you leave her?"

Jame's own eyes widened at the sight of such fear in the usual hardened expression of Severus Snape, and his throat constricted in panic. "Lily—"

Both men disaparated at the same instance in a swirl of fog and landed outside the cottage in Godric's Hollow. James pushed through the gate first, his heart racing with dread at the sight of the door blasted open and lying in pieces across the threshold. Running into the foyer with Snape right behind him, he glanced around in horror, afraid of what he would find. "Lily!" he climbed the stairs, using the wall to keep himself on his feet as he flew into Harry's room down the hall. "Lily!"

The baby was crying, hoarse from screaming all alone in his bed. Harry strained to reach for him mother through the bars of the crib where she lay sprawled out on the floor. A single drop of blood fell like a tear from the lightning shaped scar on his forehead.

James dropped to his knees with a sob catching in his throat. Reaching for the lifeless body of his wife, he collapsed with his face against hers and cried. Her brilliant green eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, but the spark of color was gone, diminished by the curse which had claimed her life.

Severus Snape held on to the door frame to keep himself steady. The scene of the room before him was a nightmare and he was overcome with both grief and bitter rage. The child would not stop crying, a sound grating to the nerves but it was muffled by the throbbing in his ears as his blood pumped rapidly through his veins. James Potter clung to his dead wife on the floor, and Snape withdrew his wand.

"Why weren't you here?" he asked again with ice in his tone. Circling around the mess of toys and fallen objects strewn across the floor, Snape moved in for better aim. Pointing his wand at Potter's chest where James sat with Lily cradled in his arms, he demanded an answer. "How could you even think to leave her?"

There were so many ways he wished to hurt James Potter. The man who had stolen everything from him and took it for granted. The man who did not deserved the happiness he had so foolishly allowed to slip away. Fueled by years of hatred and the sight of his rival sobbing over Lily forever gone, Severus Snape brought a curse to his lips and directed his wand.

A sharp pain hit his wrist and the wand flew out of his grasp before the curse could be given. Snape stepped back in alarm and saw Sirius Black emerge from the shadow of the hall. With his wand on Snape, Black pinned him to the wall and held him there while taking in the scene with disbelief in his eyes.

"James—" he could hardly speak, stunned by the sight of Lily and the sound of both James' and Harry's cries. He did not understand, how had Voldemort gotten to Lily and not James? And they boy… "Where's Voldemort?" he looked at Snape.

The desperate Death Eater had slid to the floor and taken up his wand. Black crossed the room in two long strides and shoved Snape back against the wall. "Where's your master, Snivellous," he growled with an extra shove for good measure.

Snape winced slightly as his head hit the plaster, and his jaw tightened with a scowl. He glared at Black with deep loathing before speaking in a tone which did not mask his unbalanced emotions. "I do not have a master anymore."

Sirius' own glare narrowed, and he grabbed Snape's arm, yanking back the fabric of his sleeve to expose the skin. The Dark Mark which should have been there was fading, barely visible any longer. The implications of this were more than Black could process, and he glanced over his shoulder at Harry still in his crib. The baby was now only whimpering in the presence of his father and familiar godfather, unsettled but less distraught. The scar showed dark against his pale forehead, and Sirius looked quickly back at Snape in alarm.

"Despite Potter's failure to protect his family," Snape said with malice, "the boy survived and the Dark Lord did not. It is much more than that incompetent imbecile deserves."

"Get out," Sirius thrust him away in disgust. "Run while you can, you dirty snake." Physically shoving Snape from the room, he watched him depart down the hall into the stairwell and out of the house before turning to James still on the floor clutching Lily with heaving sobs.

Sirius stepped around to the crib and picked up Harry, holding him close for comfort, both for the baby and for himself. "I'm sorry, James," he didn't know what to say. It was all so hard to believe. He wanted answers, he wanted to know why Lily lay dead while James appeared untouched. "How did he get in?"

James kept his head bowed, rocking Lily gently with an occasional sniff as the tears continued to fall. His face was flushed, and he dared not look at his best friend for fear Sirius would see the guilt in his eyes.

When Sirius received no response, he lessened his grip on Harry and held him back far enough to get a better look at the scar. Rubbing his thumb across the drying line of blood, he smeared it away. "He's gone then." It didn't make sense how, but the Dark Lord was gone.

And so was Lily.

Moving in, Sirius crouched down beside James and forced him to let go of Lily, laying her back on the floor. Handing over Harry, Sirius ensured that James had control of the baby and his emotions before getting back to his feet. "I'll find him, Prongs," he promised. "I'll weasel that rat out and make sure he knows just what he's done." Going to the door, he paused only long enough to toss back a last request. "Don't go anywhere," he said. He wanted answers when he returned.

James could not have left even if his life depended on it. His guilt pressed him down like a dead weight on the floor, and he clung to Harry now that his wife had been taken from his arms. He sat there in a daze even when Hagrid poked his head through broken door below and called up the stairs. The half-giant could not get in, and James did not bother to reply.

In time, it was Dumbledore who found him. The wizened old headmaster stepped in from the hall having silently arrived on the stair. He stood within the door frame, catching every detail of the room from Lily, to James, to the scar on Harry's forehead in an instance. He did not ask James what had happened. He did not ask where Potter had been while his wife was murdered and his son attacked. He simply looked down upon the broken man and took charge of the situation.

"You cannot sit here, young man," he spoke. "It still is not safe for you."

James lifted his head, but did not respond.

"Your boy—"

"Harry," the father spoke, croaking out the name with raspy vocal cords.

Dumbledore nodded, "Harry was protected by Lily's sacrifice it seems. That is no small thing. We have an opportunity to take advantage of that protection, if you wish it."

James met Dumbledore's gaze for the first time, appearing confused under his fatigue and pain.

"Sacrificial Protection can last under the shelter of family if…" Dumbledore watched Potter's reaction carefully, "the shelter is linked by blood to the one who provided the sacrifice."

It took a moment for this to sink in, and Dumbledore spoke before James had a chance to object. "Think on it, man, even if it's just for a time. He would be safer with his aunt than anywhere on earth. She can provide him safe-keeping far stronger than even you can right now if you let her."

"No," James shook his head adamantly, struggling to get to his feet while holding his one-year-old tightly in his arms. "No, he's my son," he backed away from Dumbledore as if afraid the headmaster would take Harry from him. "He's mine to take care of. Only mine." Glancing down at Lily once last time, he strengthened his resolve and stumbled out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Swedish Blondes and Floor Vents**

Thirteen-year-old Harry Potter stepped through the kitchen door into the back garden and scanned the opaque sky for owls. It had become a habit in the last few weeks leading up to September first. He knew Ron was still in Egypt on holiday with his family. He did not expect another letter from him after the one Harry had received on his birthday, but Hermione had since returned from France and the two of them had been corresponding almost daily. Hedwig wasn't exactly thrilled with Harry for the repetitive flights, but he tried to make it up to her with extra attention and owl treats each time she returned with a new message from Hermione.

The dreary expression of the sky matched Harry's mood that afternoon as he walked down the worn, stone path through the garden to the rear gate leading out into the deserted lane. It was hard not to be annoyed with his dad acting the way he was. School was always a source of contention between the two of them, but once Harry's Hogwarts letter arrived, James had resumed previous talks of keeping him home that year.

Perhaps if he hadn't met Tom Riddle's memory in the Chamber of Secrets last year his dad wouldn't be so concerned. Maybe if he hadn't fought over the Stone with shady remnants of one of the darkest wizards of all time at the end of his first year, Harry's father would not be considering pulling him from Hogwarts. And the recent news of a prisoner escape from Azkaban had James even more paranoid than usual.

Frustrated by his dad's fears, Harry walked along the rocky lane behind the house and pulled his wand from the back pocket of his jeans. He wasn't supposed to have it, but James was too preoccupied with his own issues to even notice that Harry had removed it from his trunk and taken to carrying it around. Twirling it lazily, he headed down hill to the west.

The Potters lived on the dullest piece of countryside in Buckinghamshire in Harry's opinion. Nothing but wooded hillsides and Muggle farmland, there wasn't another witch or wizard within walking distance, at least not that he knew of. Knowing his father, James probably made sure that none of their neighbors were of the magical sort just to maintain anonymity. It was his way of trying to protect Harry, but his son sometimes thought it was more of an excuse for James not to have to face the world.

Harry took a familiar short cut through a hidden path in a cluster of brush which lined the low stone wall of a neighboring property. The Ottosson family were Swedish dairy farmers with a daughter not much older than Harry who liked to spend her summer holidays sunbathing in a lounge chair in the back garden. The stone wall ran along the east end of the yard close to the house before curving off to the right and meandering back into the dense forest growth below the Potter cottage. Harry had been working up the courage all summer to speak to her, but had yet to do so. He was fairly certain she knew that he frequently walked that way, however. Where once she used to face her chair to the west for optimal sun rays, she had recently taken to pointing the tail end toward the wall while keeping her shades firmly in place over her eyes, appearing disinterested.

Since the sun had not shone its face all day, Harry wasn't even sure she would be out, and was pleasantly surprised to see that she was. With her blonde hair pulled up, wearing a pair of short cutoffs and over-sized forest green cardigan, she sat curled in the lounger with her bare feet tucked beneath her while reading a book on the stone patio behind the house. Sunglasses firmly in place, she didn't even look up as Harry approached. Summer was almost over. He would be leaving for London the next day to meet up with Ron and Hermione to purchase their supplies for school. He was running out of chances to speak to this Swedish sunbather, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He had no clue how to even begin.

Harry did have the sense to tuck his wand away before he accidently did something stupid that might catch her attention and that of the Ministry of Magic. Slipping it out of sight, he shoved his hands deep into the two front pockets of his jeans, glanced furtively over the wall, and prepared to simply walk on by as he always did, back into the trees and around to the front lane and home again.

"I leave for school tomorrow," the young woman spoke suddenly, causing Harry to startle and stop in his tracks.

Turning to the wall, he stood there like a fool, not quite sure if he had heard her right. "Sorry?"

"For school," she repeated, setting down her book, lowering her sunglasses, and turning in her seat. Getting up, she wrapped her cardigan tighter around her to ward of a chill and met his confused expression with a playful smile while stepping up to the wall standing between them. "I won't be here again until next summer, just in case you wanted to know."

"Oh," Harry acknowledged her awkwardly, trying desperately not to blush under her blue eyed gaze.

"I thought I would save you the trouble of walking down here," she held back the urge to laugh. "You know, to see for yourself."

"Right," the effort to appear cool was failing for Harry. "Good to know."

"It's a shame, really," she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. "I did so hope you would have stepped over and said hi one of these days."

"Sorry," Harry smiled sheepishly, shifting on the path so that he moved a step closer without appearing too obvious in doing so. "But, you have a dog," he nodded back toward the house where a desperate Yorkie barked through a sliding glass door. "I wasn't quite sure what he would do if I dared."

"_She_ is quite harmless," she assured him with a light laugh before biting her lower lip and considering him with an interested gaze. "My name is Carla, but my friends call me Carie."

"Harry," he held out a hand and took hers for a shake.

"I know," she held on to his hand for a prolonged moment before releasing it. "Harry Potter."

"Yeah," he was a little surprised that she knew it. He was use to people knowing his name, but not Muggles.

"Well, Harry Potter," Carie pushed off from the wall, "next summer I expect you to stop by for a chat any time you fancy a walk down my lane."

Harry laughed, unable to hide the blush this time. "Yeah, alright—" A loud crack followed by the rumble of an engine interrupted their conversation, and he glanced over his shoulder back up the path toward the road.

"What was that?" Carie asked, following his gaze.

Harry stepped reluctantly away from his side of the wall and absentmindedly touched the grip of his wand sticking out of his pocket. "Nothing," he said lightly, "just _my_ guard dog."

Carie appeared confused, but Harry merely grinned with a small wave as he began to retreat. "Have a good year at school."

"You too, Harry," she watched him go. "Promise me I'll see you next summer."

"Promise!" he called back over his shoulder as he picked up the pace and jogged up the path back to the lane. Sirius had the worst timing ever, but Harry knew if he didn't return to the house both him and his dad would be calling for him, and Harry did not need that in front of Carla. James had a rule about getting too close to their Muggle neighbors, and though Sirius didn't agree, he would be merciless with the jeering if he found out it was a girl Harry was talking too.

His godfather had already parked his flying motorcycle beside the back gate when Harry reached the cottage. The kitchen door stood open, and he stepped in to find Sirius at the table seated comfortably with his feet up while James was at the fridge pulling out a cold jug of pumpkin juice.

"Where have you been?" he demanded the second Harry appeared.

"Out," Harry responded with equal shortness. They had already quarreled enough that morning, he wasn't in the mood to continue.

James passed him a dark look of disapproval over pouring out three glasses of juice, but said nothing more about it. Leaning against the door frame, Harry ignored the glass where it sat waiting for him beside an open seat at the table. James took his own chair across from Sirius and picked up the most recent issue of the _Daily Prophet_ which his oldest friend had brought with him.

"The incompetency of the Ministry never ceases to amaze me," James muttered while scanning the front page.

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," Sirius responded blandly.

"How has he not been caught yet?" James dropped the paper on the table and disregarded Sirius's sarcasm. "He's a bloody rat for Merlin's sake."

"Exactly," Sirius leaned back and balanced on the back two legs of his chair lazily. "A rat running around London like a damn strand of hay in a haystack, that's all he is. That's why I keep saying—"

"Forget it, Sirius," James wouldn't hear of it. "I don't work for the Ministry anymore."

Sirius shrugged and let it go, but didn't appear very happy about it. "Well, then stop complaining. We're doing all we can. He's just very good at hiding."

"I'm more upset about him getting out at all, you know that," James snapped.

"Yes, I do," Sirius muttered ungraciously and took a swig of his juice to cover his own frustration, glancing briefly at Harry in the process.

"I blame Fudge for that," James went on.

"You're not the only one. He was a fool to think Wormtail wasn't a flight risk anymore."

"They should have sealed him in a box if they weren't going to bother with magically keeping him from transforming."

"Last I saw him," Sirius thought about it, "he was so debilitated by the dementors I wouldn't have thought he could pull it off either. No doubt the others had a hand in convincing Peter to make a move. Shacklebolt believes he was supposed to help get the others free but fled the moment he escaped his cell and left them all behind. Smart move really," he chuckled humorlessly. "No doubt Lestrange would have probably murdered him the first chance she got."

"Why?" Harry couldn't help from asking.

James looked up as if suddenly remembering he was there. "You should be packing," he said. "Go, get that room cleaned up or you can forget about London tomorrow."

Sirius ducked his head and covered an irritated grimace, but Harry didn't so readily accept his father's commanding tone.

"I'm almost done," he told him. "Why would the Death Eaters want Pettigrew killed?" he wanted to know. James and Sirius' old schoolmate was a big part of the reason why Harry's mother was dead, and he had served twelve years in wizard prison for betrayal and mass murder. His dad never wanted to talk about the ordeal with Harry, but he felt like he had a right to know.

"There are no loyalties in the Dark Lord's army—" Sirius was willing to explain, but James cut him off.

"Go to your room, Harry," he snapped. "I won't tell you again."

The two men at the table met each other's eye in strained silence, and Harry pushed away from the door. Crossing the kitchen and fighting the urge to curse out loud, he passed the table without looking at his father. James noticed the wand sticking out of Harry's pocket, and whisked it out with a scowl. Harry could have kicked himself for forgetting to hide it better, and he stopped and waited for the inevitable scolding with his jaw clenched in annoyance.

James didn't appear to feel it was worth the effort, merely expelling a frustrated sigh and tossing the wand on the table. "Go," he sent him off again, and Harry quickly left, taking the back stairs to the second floor and ducking inside his room.

Between the bed and the dresser was a floor vent which opened up to the kitchen below. Moving his overflowing wastebasket, Harry spread out on his back on the floor with his head near the vent and continued to listen in on the conversation between James and Sirius. His room was actually a mess of school robes, old spell books, and crumpled parchment, but it could wait.

"…you could lighten up a little for a start," Sirius was saying in response to James' exasperated question. "He's a good kid, Prongs."

"Then why can't he stay out of trouble?"

"Probably the same reasons you couldn't. Everything you've gone through in the last thirteen years, he's gone through, only worse. Look at how he handled the last two years. Neither one of us could have endured all that and fared as well as Harry."

"He never should have had to," James grumbled to the point that Harry almost missed what he said.

"Such is life," Sirius took a careless approach to the whole thing. "Just give him some credit. It wouldn't hurt for him to know a few things seeing how it's his life that's in danger here. Did you read the _Prophet_?" The sound of the newspaper slapping the table reached the vent overhead. "Bottom half of the front page, read it."

It was silent a moment as James did as he was told. Sirius's glass clinked against the wood surface of the table and his chair legs went thud on the floor as he got up to get a refill from the fridge.

"And this is supposed to make me feel better?" James demanded after reading.

"I didn't say anything about that," Sirius poured and returned the jug to the fridge. "I just thought you should know. More importantly I thought you should warn him. He knows, James. I don't know how word got to Azkaban, but Pettigrew knows Voldemort made an attempt to revive his body a year ago. Hogwarts is going to be the first place he goes."

"And that's precisely why I should keep Harry home."

Sirius barked out a derisive laugh, slumping back in his chair and scraping up the floor. "You think you can protect him better than Dumbledore and a fleet of dementors?"

Harry didn't need to see his father's face to pick up on the tension created by Sirius' remark. He was surprised James didn't throw him out of the house. The issue of his ability to protect his son was a sore one which the man did not tolerate lightly.

"I'm sorry," Sirius conceded before James could speak. "But be rational, would you? Pettigrew can try what he likes, he's not getting in. I personally will see to that."

"How?" James demanded. "Are you going to seal up every rat hole and passage? If he can slip by dementors in Azkaban, he can slip into Hogwarts."

"Come on, James," Sirius suddenly didn't find the prospect to be such a threat. "We're talking about Wormtail here."

"I've already underestimated him once," Harry's father stated coldly. "I won't do it again."

"He may be desperate," Sirius told him seriously, "but he's also gutless. Harry needs to be in school, you know that."

The kitchen fell silent once more as the two old friends contemplated the argument to themselves. Harry lay and stared at the ceiling giving it careful consideration as well. So Peter Pettigrew escaped from Azkaban to come after him. Why, he wasn't so sure. Revenge maybe, or did he actually think that killing Harry would bring back his master? It was laughable, and Harry was with Sirius on this one. Pettigrew was nothing, he was barely a threat. He was a sniveling rat who, according to Harry's godfather, had never been anything but a follower all his life. The fact that James seemed reluctant to let Harry go back to school because of one pathetic wannabe Death Eater irked him even further. He had faced Voldemort's influence three times in his life already, what was Pettigrew compared to that?

Chairs scraped the floor downstairs once more, and Harry realized that James was beginning to climb the stair. Jumping up off the floor, he slid the wastebasket over the vent and busied himself with his school things to appear as if he had been packing all along.

James poked his head through the half-closed door and glanced around at the mess spilling off the bed and desk, out of dresser drawers and all over the floor. His frown deepened across his brow, and he appeared old to Harry, who stopped with an armload of books over his open trunk to look at him.

"Sirius is staying for supper," James said, pushing open the door all the way. "I was going to ask for your help in preparing it, but it looks as though you have plenty to do here."

"Are we still going to London tomorrow?" Harry asked.

James hesitated, playing with Harry's wand which he held in his hand. "We'll see," he said vaguely, holding out the wand for his son to take. "Pack that away. I don't want to see you with it again until school starts, got it?"

Harry took it pointed end first, flipping it around and grasping the handle without making any promises. If his dad couldn't give him a direct answer, than why should he in return?

"I'll call you down when supper's ready," James slipped back out into the hall, and Harry dropped his books into his trunk before kicking the lid closed and tossing his wand on the unmade bed. He didn't care what his father's final decision on the matter was. Harry would be on that train to Hogwarts on September first. The atmosphere in that house was stifling, and he wasn't sure if he could take much more.

Looking up, Harry caught sight of Hedwig as she flew to the window. Crossing the room to greet her, he pushed open the pane, and stood back to let her in. Hedwig landed on her perch on Harry's desk and hooted dolefully, giving him the impression that she would not be taking any return messages back to Hermione any time soon. Harry smiled and scratched under her feathers. "Alright," he conceded, "you can have a day off or two." Giving her an owl treat, he removed Hermione's letter and prepared to read.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN-Sorry, this isn't a very long chapter, but I've been short on time. Hope you enjoy it anyway!**

**Dinner Conversation**

_Harry,_

_Have you seen the_ Daily Prophet_? Are you worried about Pettigrew? Dumbledore will make sure he doesn't get through security at Hogwarts, Harry, you know that. I don't see the point in him trying anyway. Killing you now won't bring Voldemort back, and to try it would be ludicrous. I think his years in Azkaban have damaged Pettigrew's state of mind. If anything, that is what makes him so dangerous. I wish the Ministry would just find him already so we don't have to worry about it._

_Anyway, Harry, Ron will be back in the country tonight, and Mum and Dad are bringing me to Diagon Alley in the morning. Will you be there, has your dad said yes? I hope so, because I think Hedwig is tired of carrying all these letters, and I would really like to talk more about all this with you. See you tomorrow if you can!_

_ Hermione_

Harry set down the letter on his desk and decided to leave the rest of his packing for later. He wanted to see the _Daily Prophet_ article for himself to know what exactly they thought Pettigrew was going to do.

Walking downstairs, he found his dad and Sirius still in the kitchen. James was at the stove preparing some aroma-filled dish in a hot skillet, and Sirius was at the table tucked behind the paper.

"Done already?" James noticed Harry on the stairs.

"Almost," he responded. He thought about just asking to see the article, but figured James would object and just end up chucking the whole paper in the bin to avoid talking about it.

"Set the table then, would you?"

Harry did as he was told, grabbing plates from the cupboard and placing one before Sirius while trying to get a quick look at the front of the _Prophet._ As discreet as Harry was, his godfather picked up on his motives and suppressed a knowing grin. Folding the paper, Sirius laid it flat upon the middle of the table with the Pettigrew story in plain view. The headline read:

_** Escaped Mass Murder Understood to Have Plans for Potter**_

_Prison snitch claims the betrayer, Peter Pettigrew, spoke of his plans to infiltrate Hogwarts School of Witchcraft…_

It was as far as Harry got before James appeared at his shoulder and removed the paper in order to place a bowl of lettuce greens in its place. He didn't toss it in the trash, but rolled it up and stashed it in an empty pigeon hole of the small writing desk in the corner of the kitchen.

Harry finished setting the table and the three of them sat down to eat with the door standing open and allowing in a sweet summer breeze. Sirius brought up the subject of Quidditch and the recent World Cup won by Bulgaria.

"Did you hear their Seeker is retiring?" he asked Harry. "Just announced actually. They're looking at picking up some young kid, Krum I think his name is. He's supposed to be pretty damn good, from what I hear. And he's not that much older than you. Maybe we should look into getting you on one of the British teams. I think Wimbourne is looking to replace their Seeker also."

"Thirteen's a bit young, don't you think?" James said.

"Maybe next year then," Sirius suggested humorously. "Do you recall that time we tried out for spots on Puddlemere's roster?" he asked James.

"You what?" Harry found this amusing.

"Don't remind me," James leaned comfortably back in his chair and applied an opener to a bottle of wine. "Worst thing we ever did."

"Tryouts were midweek halfway through first term during our sixth year," Sirius explained to Harry. "So we had Lu—a schoolmate of ours cover for us."

Harry caught the slip-up and the meaningful look from James which accompanied it, but didn't know what it meant or what old schoolmate Sirius was talking about.

"We begged out of going to class for a day claiming sickness," Sirius continued. "Then slipped off school grounds and caught the Knight Bus to Ilkley in time for the tryouts. It's was—"

"A bloody mess," James interjected. "It was raining for one, winds like a hurricane impossible to fly in, much less catch a Snitch. They very nearly didn't let us in, did they?"

"Said we needed parental sign-off since we were underage," Sirius nodded. "Good thing you'd been practicing your spell work, James, or we would have never convinced that official to let us fly."

Harry looked at his father in surprise. "You did that?"

"No, no," James put up his hand defensively. "That's not how it happened."

"Oh it wasn't?" Sirius looked mighty pleased with James' discomfort. "How was it then?"

"I may have _tried_ to charm the official into letting us in, but if I remember right it was you that came up with some cockamamie story about your father getting waylaid on his way to the stadium and would be there any minute if they would only let us in."

"That would never have worked," Sirius shook his head.

"Well, it did, somehow," James was sure. "We got in, but I wish we hadn't."

"Why?" Harry was enjoying hearing this story.

"Well," his father seemed to think that was obvious. "We may have had a bit of luck on the school pitch, but out there, in that muddy mess flying up against wizards with more experience and most of them already of age…it was a nightmare."

"It wasn't that bad," Sirius laughed. "It could have been worse—" he glanced over his shoulder out the door as something bright and silvery dropped from the sky into the darkening garden and got his attention.

A fully-formed Patronus in the shape of a lynx entered the kitchen and hovered above the floor in front of the table. A deep, steady voice emitted from within its glow and suddenly filled the room like low thunder. "Wormtail has been sighted in Diagon Alley," it announced to the effect that James and Sirius sprung to their feet, scrapping chairs and jostling the table. "Report to Gringotts immediately…"

"Stay here, Harry," James quickly pulled out his wand and followed Sirius who was already out of the cottage, making for the open gate. "Don't leave the house." He swiftly closed the door behind him, and Harry heard the lock magically click before he even had time to register what was happening. Watching out the window, he caught sight of his dad and godfather disappear into thin air as they disapparated in the middle of the open lane.

A mixture of excitement and anger built up inside him and threatened to spill. Excitement over the possibility of Pettigrew's capture and anger because his dad had been so quick to leave him behind. Underage or not, how was it fair that he wasn't allowed to join the hunt? Wormtail was looking for him, after all. Pettigrew had been reckless when cornered before, who's to say he wouldn't be again? What if he panicked and blew up half of Diagon Alley trying to escape? What if Sirius didn't make it out this time, or worse, his dad? Harry had lost one parent, he didn't need to lose both.

_Get a grip,_ he told himself, sinking back into his chair at the table. Certainly Pettigrew hadn't found a way to get his hands on a wand since escaping Azkaban. He was no match for a whole division of tough Ministry Aurors. No match for James Potter.

Knowing this didn't make it any easier to just sit there in the silent cottage as the night grew darker all around him. Harry didn't bother lighting any of the lamps, but he did get up and retrieved the rolled up _Daily Prophet_ from the writing desk so he could read the Pettigrew article while he waited for his dad to return.

_Prison snitch claims the betrayer, Peter Pettigrew, spoke of his plans to infiltrate Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with a desire to "Carry out what no one else could and succeed where everyone had failed." This being a quote supposedly spoken by Pettigrew himself days before his successful attempt to break out of Azkaban Prison. Speculations are being made as to the exact meaning of this threat, but it is widely believed that the mass murderer who betrayed the confidence of James Potter, leading to the murder of his wife, Lily Potter nearly twelve years ago, has sinister plans to complete You-Know-Who's attempt on the Potters' son, Harry, now entering his third year at Hogwarts._

It went on to give an exhausted overview of what the public already knew about the night of October Thirty-first when Harry was just one year old. It also gave an account of Pettigrew's murderous acts leading to the deaths of twelve Muggles which he tried to frame Sirius for. The paper recapped he events leading up to his capture at the home of Harry's best friend, Ron Weasley, where Pettigrew thought he might try to hide out as a rat and not be recognized. James had given the Aurors a detailed description of what Pettigrew looked like when transformed as Wormtail, however, and Ron's dad, Arthur recognized him right away. Peter was quickly dragged off to Azkaban, and Sirius was likewise released and freed of all charges, though he had never really shaken off the effects of his short stint within the dark confines of the wizard prison.

Harry skipped ahead and turned to an inside page where the article continued with a quote from the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.

_"I assure you that everything is being done to bring that sniveling rat in," the Minister wishes for the public to know despite the fact that Pettigrew has managed to elude the Ministry for over a month. "Extra security measures are being taken at Hogwarts, so Harry Potter and the rest of the students will be quite safe, there is no doubt about that."_

_When asked why it was that the Muggle community had been warned of Pettigrew's escape if there was nothing to worry about, Fudge had this to say: "Well, it's a mere precautionary measure, isn't it? Tell me what you would do in my shoes, if you disagree. I suppose you think the job of the Minister is all fancy galas and tea parties?" __This coming after a public poll showed many out there still favoring Headmaster Albus Dumbledore as top choice for Minister over Fudge, leaving the longstanding question of why the headmaster still won't accept the position…_

Harry left off reading before the end, having all the information he was looking for. Seeing it for himself only made him more certain that there was nothing to worry about from Pettigrew. Hermione's concerns over his stability were noteworthy, but even if Wormtail wasn't caught in London that night, there was little chance of getting past Fudge's added security.

Dropping the _Daily Prophet_ beside his plate of uneaten dinner, Harry pushed back from the table and decided to clean up for his father. Maybe if James came home to a spotless kitchen he would be more favorable in offering up details of what was going on.

Stashing the leftovers in the fridge, he washed up the dishes and wiped down the table and counter tops. After a quick sweep up of the floor, he glanced at the clock to see that more than an hour had passed without any sign of either his dad or Sirius. What was keeping them for so long?

Trying not to worry, Harry replaced the broom in the kitchen closet and climbed the stairs to his room. Already deep into cleaning mode, he figured he might as well get his room straightened as well and really get in his dad's good graces. He stacked his books inside his trunk, folded his clean robes, balled up socks, and made out a list of things he would need to pick up in Diagon Alley for his potions kit.

With his trunk in order and the floor of his room cleared of clutter, Harry had nothing else to do but wait. He was bored and alone with his thoughts which were driving him insane. Not even Hedwig was around to keep him company as she had gone out to hunt and not yet returned. The clock ticked away the hours, and Harry fell asleep with his head down on the kitchen table waiting late into the night. His dreams were a mixture of pleasure rides on a broom with Carla the Sunbathing Swede and uncomfortable nightmares of Pettigrew entering the cottage and blowing it into a pile of splinters.

Harry awoke with a start at the sound of the kitchen door closing behind James as his dad finally returned sometime in the very early hours of the morning. "Harry," he looked surprised to see him still up. James himself looked exhausted and pale, his jaw set in a tight line which could mean only one thing. Pettigrew had escaped again.

"What happened?" Harry asked, suddenly wide awake and alert.

James just shook his head, moving gingerly across the room as if it was painful to even move.

"Are you okay?" Harry was on his feet now, looking worried.

"I'm fine," James assured him tightly. "And I promise, I will tell you what happened, but not now, alright, Harry? Right now we both need to get some rest. We'll have all day tomorrow to talk."

"What about London?" Harry asked. "My things for school, I'm supposed to meet Ron and Hermione at the Leaky Cauldron."

James paused on the stairs and passed his son an exasperated look. "I did not tell you for certain that we would be going. You were wrong to make plans without knowing for sure."

"But—"

"Enough, Harry," he snapped. "Help me out here and at least try to understand the weight of this, would you? It is too dangerous to go walking about London right now. I'm not going to let you do it. Don't argue anymore," he raised his voice sharply when Harry began to open his mouth in further objection. "That's my final word, and I'll hear no more about it. I'll send Hedwig with a list of your school supplies tomorrow," he turned back to the stair and began to ascend, putting an end to the conversation. "You'll have everything you need _should_ I decide it's safe for you to go to school this year."

Harry stood in the middle of the kitchen and bit back the urge to express his feelings toward his father's brash decision. James Potter could ditch school and jump a bus to sneak into a Quidditch tryout, but a trip to London for textbooks was a major threat to his family's safety. Harry had been listening to Sirius' stories of his schooldays grandeur long enough. He often wondered if there was really any truth to the tales. Present day James Potter was a far cry from the adventurous Prongs of the past. Harry would never admit it out loud, but he was ashamed of his father and wanted nothing more than to distance himself from James' endless fears.

Making a decision of his own, Harry glanced up the stairs to make sure his dad was gone before crossing the kitchen and grabbing a jacket from the hook by the door. Checking to make sure he had his wand, he pulled open a small drawer in the writing desk and removed a small bag of gold he knew was stashed there. Pocketing it quickly, Harry silently slipped out into the predawn mist and carefully closed the door behind him. Waiting on the garden path, he eyed the front of the cottage for any movement before hurrying out of the gate and jogging down the lane at a brisk pace.

His heart was pounding with the spontaneity of the plan, and part of him didn't believe he would even pull it off, but that didn't stop Harry from reaching the end of the road just as the sun poked its face over the eastern hills. The lane met with an intersecting blacktop two-lane which was deserted and free of traffic at that early hour. Tossing one last apprehensive glance over his shoulder to ensure James wasn't following, Harry stuck out his wand hand and hailed down the Knight Bus.


	4. Chapter 4

**Diagon Alley**

The triple-decker, purple monstrosity of the Knight Bus exploded onto the lane out of thin air and screeched to an immediate halt. Harry stumbled back and caught himself before falling while hoping that no one had heard the bus's arrival in the still, morning air. Pimple-faced Stan Shunpike, the Knight Bus conductor, stuck his head out and looked surprised to see who his next passenger would be.

" 'Arry Potter. I thought we was stopping for your father. You Potters are the only ones 'oo live up these parts 'cept Muggles. Is 'e comin'? Should we wait?" Stan glanced up in the direction of the Potter cottage on the hill, and Harry hastily jumped aboard the bus when the young conductor stood back to allow him entrance.

"No," he stammered, anxious to leave before it was too late.

"Still in London is 'e?" Stan took a guess and followed Harry as the bus took off again at high speed and the landscape changed from lush moor to sun-drenched seaside. "Going to meet 'im?"

"Ah," Harry thought fast and accepted the ready-made excuse for his lone travels. "Yeah, that's right. I need to go to the Leaky Cauldron."

" 'Ear that Ern?" Stan called to the aging driver handing the controls at the front of the bus. "Mister Potter needs to get to the Leaky Cauldron."

"Ar," was the response from behind the wheel.

Harry dug in his bag of gold and paid for his ticket as Stan dropped into a seat beside driver, Ernie Prang.

"Sorry for the beds," Stan motioned at the row of bedsteads beside the curtained windows. "Ol' lady Nettles wonted a bit of lie in this morning." He nodded toward the back of the bus where a lump of blankets snored and bounced around with the motion of Ernie's erratic driving. "If you'd fancy a bench I'll get'n for you."

"No," Harry shook his head and sat down on the edge of the nearest mattress. "This is fine."

"Too bad about missin' Pettigrew," the conductor busied himself with a dented and dirty teapot, filling it with a stream of water from his wand. "Cuppa?"

"No thanks," Harry declined. "What about Pettigrew?"

"Pettigrew escaping in London," Stan clarified. "That's why yer dad's in Diagon Alley, isn't it?"

"Oh," Harry blundered. "Yeah. Did…did they come close then? To catching him, I mean?"

"Wots I 'eard woss 'e was seen inside Gringotts. That's right," he nodded at Harry's apparent interest. "Dirty rat runnin' aroun' doin' oo knows wot. Probably tryin' to steal gold, I recken. Anyway, the Patrol was called in, they did a search of Gringotts, but there's lots of places for a rat to hide. 'Aven't found 'im yet, doubt they ever will. 'E's a slippery one, that'n." Stan glanced up and realized who he was talking to before looking uncomfortable and apologetic. "Sorry, 'bout that. I didn't mean nothin'."

"It's fine," Harry shrugged it off.

"I'll bet your dad'll find 'im," Stan changed to the optimistic. "Maybe already 'as."

Harry pulled himself out of his personal thoughts to offer the conductor a weak nod as the bus lurched and stopped abruptly to let off a passenger who emerged from a level above. Stan set down his steaming teapot long enough to help an old gentlemen off in a sleepy borough smelling of sea salt and summer rain.

"Next stop, London," the conductor announced to the passengers awake enough to listen before returning to his seat and resuming his task of heating his water for tea. "That's not all of it tho'," he resumed his conversation with Harry as if they had never been interrupted. "Middle of the search Ollivander the ol' wand maker burst inta Gringotts sayin' he's missing on'a 'is wands."

The news had the desired effect on his audience that Stan was hoping for, and he nodded with a wide grin. "That's right, 'Arry. They won't admit it yet, but I'll betcha five galleons that dirty rat's got 'imself a wand."

BANG! The Knight Bus flew onto a familiar street shadowed by close-set buildings in overcast London, and Harry lurched forward and nearly fell off the bed as it careened, missed several slow moving vehicles, and pulled up to the curb.

"Leaky Cauldron!" Stan glanced out the nearest window. " 'Ere you go, 'Arry. Wotch your step on the stairs, now. Got time for a quick one, Ern?" he turned to his driver and persuaded Prang to stop into the pub a moment before they moved on.

Harry didn't wait around to find out if they would be joining him inside the Leaky Cauldron. He slipped off the Muggle street and inside the bustling inn full of witches, wizards, and all sorts of magic folk having a quick breakfast before taking care of their business for the day.

Harry glanced around and wondered where to go first, out into Diagon Alley, or just stay there and hope to find Ron and Hermione before James realized he was gone. His decision was made for him when he spotted Ron's sister, Ginny, sitting alone at a table off to the side. An empty plate sat off to the side where she had pushed it after eating, and a brightly colored advertising leaflet lay stretched out on the table as she sat reading.

"Hey, Ginny," Harry walked up and said hello.

"Oh hey, Harry," she nearly jumped at the sound of his voice, glancing up and blushing slightly at the sight of him standing there. "You're here early. Ron didn't think you'd come 'til sometime after breakfast."

"Yeah," Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets. It was always a little awkward talking to Ginny, but especially since saving her from the Chamber of Secrets at the end of last term. "I got here a little early."

She nodded and appeared as uncomfortable as Harry, biting her lower lip, and struggling to come up with something else to say. It was good to see her looking better though, he had to admit. The Weasleys' summer trip to Egypt must have done her some good.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked, glancing once more around the room in case he missed him. It appeared that Ginny was the only Weasley there.

"Still upstairs," she told him. "Mum just went to wake them all up," she referred to four out of six of her older brothers who were staying at the inn with their parents. "Dad went over to Gringotts already."

Harry nodded, figuring Mr. Weasely had probably been a part of the search the night before as well. Glancing down, he noticed what Ginny was looking at on the leaflet. Emblazoned across the glossy paper was an enticing, colorful advertisement of the latest, fastest broom on the market, the widely anticipated Firebolt.

"Whoa," Harry moved in and took the seat next to Ginny's to get a better look.

"Isn't it amazing?" she grinned and turned the page so he could see it.

"Have you had a look in the shop yet?"

"No," she shook her head, her bright red hair falling in her eyes. "I can't wait though. Mum's going to want to get my supplies right off, but I don't care. I'm going right to Quality Quidditch Supplies to get a look as soon as we leave here."

"I'm coming with you," Harry responded eagerly, and their gaze met as they both laughed.

"Are you going to get one?"

"I wish," Harry picked up the leaflet and scanned the description of the amazing broom with envious interest. "I know Dad won't let me though, not after having my Nimbus for only two years." And certainly not after traveling to London like a runaway without permission.

"Oi, Harry!" Ron appeared on the stairs right behind the twins, Fred and George. "You're here early."

Harry grinned at his best friend, and tried not to laugh at the increased amount of freckles from a summer in the sun. "I couldn't wait to see the Firebolt," he told him, sharing a familiar smile with Ginny as the boys sat down at the table and ordered breakfast from Tom, the landlord.

"I'm with you on that one, mate," Ron agreed wholeheartedly. "We'll go as soon as I eat."

"You will not," Percy arrived at the table looking pious as usual. "Mother said we need to wait until father returns before we leave the inn."

"_Mother says…_ careful, Perc, your hair's out of place," Fred reached up and mussed his older brother's perfectly combed hair until it stood up on end. Percy glowered and moved out of his reach before patting it back into place.

"Percy made Head Boy," George leaned over the table to fill Harry in. "Did you hear?"

"No, I hadn't," Harry shook his head.

"Well, you will," Fred assured him sarcastically. "And you'll hear, and you'll hear…"

"Everyone get breakfast then?" Mrs. Weasley arrived next at the table and checked in on her children. "Oh hello, Harry," she noticed him sitting among her own, and looked pleased but also slightly confused. "I didn't think you would be here. Did your dad come back to London so soon?"

Harry hadn't considered that hiccup. Of course the Weasleys would have thought it odd that he was there alone, without his dad and amid the threat of Pettigrew running around the London sewers. Regretting having to lie to Ron's mother, Harry gave the best excuse he could come up with. "No, actually, he sent me to meet you. He didn't think you would mind if I tagged along, just to get my things. I hope that's alright."

Mrs. Weasley thought about this a moment, still finding it odd that James Potter hadn't spoken to her or Arthur himself, but she figured he probably had a lot on his mind at the moment. "Of course, dear," she smiled. "We'll be leaving the inn in a moment, just as soon as Arthur returns. Ginevra, put the advertisement away, would you?"

The Weasley's quickly ate their breakfast, and Mr. Weasley met them in time to slip through the hidden entrance between the pub and Diagon Alley. He was just as surprised to see Harry, but accepted the explanation just as his wife had. "James did look rather spent when he left here earlier this morning," Arthur thought about it out loud. "I don't blame him for wanting to duck out. I'm rather worn out myself."

"Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked as they walked down the crowded street in a group, making their way toward Flourish and Blotts.

"Yes, Harry."

"Is it true that Ollivander's got broken into last night?"

"Your dad told you, did he? Yes, I'm afraid it was," Arthur answered before Harry had to.

"It was Pettigrew, wasn't it? He has a wand."

"We don't know that for sure," Mr. Weasley put up a hand, warning Harry not to jump to conclusions.

"Who else would?" Harry wanted to know. There was no doubt in his mind that it was Wormtail, and the thought made him uneasy. The rat could be hiding around any corner, ready and waiting to attack him at first sight. Perhaps he should have listened to his father and stayed at home.

"I agree it seems most likely," Mr. Weasley assented, "but there is no actual proof as of yet. He was only spotted in rat form within Gringotts…but you know all this, I'm sure your dad filled you in already." He ended the conversation, as Mrs. Weasley was calling for his attention further down the street. "Coming, Molly!"

The others had congregated outside of Quality Quidditch Supplies where a great crowd of people had gathered in hopes of getting a glimpse of the stunning Firebolt display in the window. Ginny stood beside her older, taller brothers, bouncing on her toes trying to get a look over all the heads in her way.

Harry moved in, forgetting about Pettigrew for the moment in his excitement of seeing the Firebolt himself. "Here," he stepped up and offered Ginny a hand to help her stand on the plinth of a nearby streetlamp. Ginny accepted it gratefully, and Harry climbed up beside her, hanging off the other side where she clung with one arm around the cylindrical pole of the lamp. "Can you see it?" he asked.

"Yes," she beamed.

"Amazing isn't it?"

"One hundred and fifty miles in ten seconds," she recited from the advertisement. "I wonder how much it costs."

"More galleons than I'll ever have," Harry studied the design of the model in the window, wanting nothing more than to jump on and take it for a test-fly. Looking around the Alley from that vantage point, he noticed that there were several more Magical Law Enforcement members out roaming than usual. They roamed in sets of two, turning down side streets and conversing with patrons with their eyes constantly searching the area. One even caught sight of Harry where he was standing, and watched him a moment, appearing curious. Harry grew worried wondering if the officer knew he wasn't supposed to be there, but the squad member looked away and continued chatting with a group of shoppers and didn't glance Harry's way again.

Turning back to the crowd outside of Quality Quidditch Supplies, Harry did noticed someone else, however. Hermione Granger was rushing their way from the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. Her parents were behind her, and she looked like she also had enjoyed a summer in the sun. Calling his and Ron's name, she bounded up and greeted the whole Weasley family happily.

Harry helped Ginny safely back to the ground before receiving a brief, excited hug from his friend.

"I was sure you wouldn't come," Hermione met his eye with hidden meaning and understanding in her gaze. She had observed the fact that James was absent, and Harry knew that no excuse would get by her.

"I had to," he explained, knowing she would also understand.

Hermione nodded, but didn't say anything more since Ron's parents would overhear. They took their time getting a good look at the Firebolt before moving on to complete their shopping. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were reluctant to let any of their children or Harry stray too far out of their sight. Fear was still high after the events at Gringotts and Ollivander's, but there was a point when Ron, Harry, and Hermione managed to slip off on their own for an ice cream at Florean Fortescue's.

They sat outside in cool breeze with their purchases at their feet under the table, and slurped strawberry, chocolate, and peanut butter cones. It felt good to be away from the cottage, no matter the circumstances. Harry had not realized how lonely he had been all summer until he was back in the good company as friends. Hermione didn't allow him to rest for long, however.

"What do you know?" she demanded shortly after they sat down. "How did you even manage to get here? Where's your dad?"

"At home," he answered the last rapid-fire question first. "He doesn't know I left."

"Obviously," she rolled her eyes. "I'm surprised he hasn't come after you yet."

"I am too, actually."

"You really snuck out," Ron looked thrilled. "Brilliant."

"No, it's not, Ron," Hermione cut him a glare of annoyance. "Your dad will be furious, Harry."

He knew that, but he was rather ticked off at his dad at the moment also, so it was only fair. "I took the Knight Bus," he ignored her scolding and continued to give them the details. "It was easy actually," he couldn't help but grin as Ron laughed in enjoyment.

"Easy," Hermione scoffed. "And it will be even easier for certain escaped prisoners to take a shot at you out here."

"It's pretty smart, I think," Ron said. "Think about it, Hermione," he reacted to her cynicism. "This is the one place in all of London that Pettigrew is running AWAY from. Harry's safer here than he is at home, I'll reckon."

Hermione didn't look pleased, but she really didn't have an argument to respond with. Harry and Ron knew they had won that one, and shared their satisfaction of the rare moment.

"Well, what about last night," Hermione pressed with a tone of irritation. "What have you heard about Pettigrew?"

"I know he was in Gringotts for sure," Harry told her. "That's where they chased and lost him. He's probably still down in the vaults, lost or something."

"Good," Ron snorted.

"He may have a wand," Harry told him, and Hermione looked alarmed. "Ollivander is missing a wand in his shop, they think Wormtail might have taken it."

"This is bad, Harry," she sounded even more worried than before.

Harry just shrugged and tried to act like it was no big deal. So what if Pettigrew did have a wand? He still had to get close enough to Harry to use it. The chance of that happening was less than none, he was sure. "They'll catch him," he assured both of his friends with more confidence than he felt he possessed. "He's not coming out of Gringotts' tunnels without being captured, there's no—"

"What?" Hermione whipped around to see what had suddenly caught his attention.

"Oh, hell," Harry saw the familiar shape of a large black dog moving in the shadows of Knockturn Alley but not before the dog saw him.

Jumping up from his seat, Harry scrambled to grab his things out from under the table as Sirius transformed from beast to man in the flash of an eye and began advancing quickly in their direction. "See you guys later," he gave Ron and Hermione a hasty goodbye. "Tell your Mum not to worry." He didn't want Mrs. Weasley to think he had been taken or something horrible along those lines.

"Sit down!" Sirius bellowed before Harry even made one step away from the table. Giving him no choice to do anything else, his godfather whisked out his wand and forced Harry back into his chair. "I didn't believe my eyes at first," Sirius stepped up looking irate.

"Sirius—"

"Speaking is NOT what you should be doing," he cut Harry off sharply. "Listening is what you should be doing. Apologizing, maybe, but certainly not sitting here having a laugh with your friends out in the open!"

"Sorry," Harry muttered, glancing briefly at Ron and Hermione who had their heads down not wishing to make eye contact with anyone.

"I should bloody well hope so," Sirius released his hold on his godson, dropped his wand, and gestured heatedly for Harry to stand. "Get your things, let's go." He waited while Harry did as he was told without hesitating. Holding out his arm, he insisted Harry take a hold of it to apparate them both out of Diagon Alley. "Ron, Miss Granger," he nodded a curt goodbye.

Ron kept his eyes averted with a salute while Hermione passed Harry a sympathetic look and gave a weak wave just before they disappeared.

* * *

"Look who I found lazing about London eating ice cream," Sirius announced their return as soon as they pushed through the kitchen door and entered the cottage. James looked up from the table and got to his feet with flashing eyes alight with fury.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded as soon as Harry dropped his new school supplies on the floor. "Of all the irresponsible—"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Harry really didn't want to hear it. He had already gotten chewed out by Sirius, who wasn't even his father. He didn't want round two from James. "You weren't going to take me, I had to go somehow."

"And I always considered him smart," Sirius leaned against the counter with his arms crossed and passed James a sarcastic scowl.

Harry wished he would just leave.

"Go to your room," James commanded tersely. He still looked tired, and Harry wondered if he had even slept at all. Without a word, he left his things where he had set them and took the stairs to his room. Harry didn't even bother moving the wastebasket to listen in on what his dad and Sirius were saying. Instead he slumped on his bed and laid there without moving, his eyes on the ceiling. Hedwig opened an eye from her perch on his desk where she had been sleeping and watched him stoically without moving.

After what felt like ages, the floorboards creaked outside his bedroom door and James entered. Harry waited until he crossed the room and sank into the open chair by the desk before sitting up and giving his father his complete attention. He knew he deserved whatever punishment he was given, but the thought that James might keep him home from Hogwarts that year made Harry's stomach tie in knots.

"I hope you understand what you put me through," James began in a steady, exhausted voice drained by fear. "As unconcerned with your safety as you may be, I happen to consider it my highest priority."

"I'm concerned," Harry looked up. "I know it was a risk."

"Really?" James didn't appreciate being interrupted. "I don't really think you do, Harry. _Think_, son. Think about what it would have meant if something had happened to you today out on your own? What if—" he cut himself off, leaning back in the chair and placing his gaze out the window to hide the emotion threatening to spill from his eyes. "This is not a game, Harry," he pleaded with his son to understand.

"No matter what I do, you always seem to find yourself in harm's way," he said after a moment of trying to collect his scattered thoughts.

Harry watched him in silence, not knowing what to say to that. It wasn't his fault things happened as they had. He didn't get why Voldemort was so intent on killing him or even why Pettigrew was for that matter. Did that mean he was supposed to lock himself away in some hole for the rest of his life, afraid of his shadow the way James was? What kind of life was that?

"It may not make sense to you now," James met his eye with a desperate look of a hurting father. "But try,_ try_ to understand that your life means something. It means something to me, got it? It means…" he trailed off with a heavy sigh, leaving the rest of his thought for another time. "Just promise me that you will be careful this year at school, alright?"

Harry found his father's insistence unnerving, but eventually nodded, promising that he would.

James relaxed in his chair and rubbed his tired eyes with the palm of his hand. "Go get your school things," he instructed. "Get them packed now. You'll want to be ready if we have any hope of catching the train on time tomorrow."

Harry hesitate, not sure if his dad really meant it. James looked up and gave him a nod with a wane smile. "I'm probably crazy, but Sirius is right. You need to go to school, and if you can't be here what safer place to be than Hogwarts?"

Harry thanked him with a relieved smile and stood to return downstairs for his things. At the door, he stopped and glanced back with a second apology on his lips. James had not moved from his chair and was gazing at the framed photo of Harry's mother sitting on the nightstand beside the bed. Holding off on the apology, Harry left him alone and slipped silently into the stairwell.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Arrival of Professor Lupin**

The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, stood puffing smoke beside platform nine and three-quarters ready to leave the station. Like every year, James Potter escorted his son to King's Cross and wished him a good term on top of an exhausted list of warnings to behave and stay out of trouble.

"Be careful," he held Harry at arms-length after loading his trunk onto the train. "Don't take any unnecessary risks."

Harry held his tongue and kept his thoughts to himself. He wished his father would understand that any 'risk' he had taken in the past two years had been completely necessary, and he didn't appreciate being made to feel like he was reckless for simply trying to stay alive. Harry, in turn, tried to comprehend James' fears for his safety, and it was this that kept him from speaking rashly and starting an argument. His father's expression of worry and exhaustion had not receded since the night before, in fact it was more pronounced. September first was always a difficult day for James Potter.

"Send an owl soon," he drew Harry in for a firm but brief hug as the platform began to clear and all the students quickly boarded.

"I will," Harry promised, shouldering his carry-on bag with a nod. Sirius had accompanied them to the station, and Harry turned to him next to say goodbye before stepping on the train. "Bye, Sirius."

"Take care, Harry," Sirius passed him a familiar nudge on the shoulder with a grin. "Give old Snivellus hell from me, eh?"

"Sirius," James didn't appreciate that very much, though the reprimand was light and not at all convincing.

Harry suppressed a smile and met Sirius' eye with an unspoken promise that he would gladly do as requested whenever he got the chance. Preparing to give his father one last goodbye, he noticed that both James and Sirius were suddenly distracted by movement down the line of cars along the near empty platform. Something they both saw caused Sirius to frown and pass his friend a meaningful look which James absorbed with a convulsive step forward. Harry did not understand the look, nor did he see what it was that had grabbed their attention, and both men covered their concern quickly before he could ask.

Harry was then distracted by the arrival of the Weasley family as they burst through the barrier at the last minute to catch the train. Harry spotted Ron and grinned, waving to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as they hustled the kids and their belongings into the closest car before the Express began to move. "Hey," Harry greeted his best friend while helping Ron maneuver his trunk in the tight space. "Cutting it kind of close, don't you think?"

"Don't even ask," Ron muttered with a dark look intended for his family. "We're here aren't we? Where's Hermione?"

"Already on," Harry nodded down the corridor. "She's looking for a place to sit. Hey, Ginny," he took immediate note of the irritated expression on Ron's sister's face as she struggled under the weight of her own trunk, blowing her unruly, red hair out of her eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Don't mind her," Fred informed him. "She's just upset at Mum."

Harry understood her frustration without even having to ask. "You got the speech of warning too," he sympathized.

"It's like they don't trust us to stay out of trouble or something," she muttered, but with a mischievous twinkle in her eye which Harry did not miss.

"I've no idea why," Fred input sarcastically as he shouldered his way down the narrow corridor. "Come on, Gin, we'll help you find a compartment."

George helped Ginny with her trunk, and they moved off as Hermione appeared and waved for Ron and Harry to follow her to where she had procured them seats further down the line.

"I thought you weren't going to make it in time," she said. "Harry, I was worried you wouldn't be here at all. How's your dad?"

"As paranoid as always," he responded glumly, not really wanting to elaborate. He was on the train bound for Hogwarts, that was all that mattered.

"This one's occupied," Ron pointed out as Hermione stopped at their compartment and slid back the door. Inside was a single, sleeping occupant tucked against the window with his face half-covered with his frayed and patched traveling cloak.

"It's fine," Hermione replied in low tones so as not to wake the traveler as they moved in and stowed their trunks in the racks above before taking their seats as far from the window as possible. "It was all that was left. Just, keep your voices down."

Ron didn't look so sure, eyeing the care-worn state of the passenger with skepticism.

Harry glanced at the suitcase on the rack above and read the name on the label:_ Professor R.J. Lupin._

"What?" Ron noted his expression of confusion.

Harry thought hard of where he might have heard that name before. It was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't figure out why. "Nothing," he shook his head and settled into his seat without further contemplation.

"He must be our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Hermione told them, leaning across the aisle with a whisper. "You think?"

"What gave that away? The fact that he's a professor?" Ron asked sarcastically.

"Obviously, Ronald," she shot him an ungracious glare. "I'm just saying, must be for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"What else?" he scoffed.

"Anyway," she tossed her frizzy hair with self-assurance. "I think he is."

"Dungbomb!" Ron practically shouted the word without warning while watching the professor for a reaction.

"What on earth, Ron!" Hermione looked horrified, glancing back and forth between Lupin and Ron in disbelief.

"Just a test, Hermione," he shrugged. "Everyone knows a teacher's ears perk up at the sound of the word 'dungbomb.'" He gestured to the fact that their fellow passenger hadn't so much as twitched. "He's dead gone, that one. Why so exhausted you think? Maybe he's new to the profession."

"That's absurd," Hermione just shook her head in exasperation.

Ron didn't seem to care what her opinion was on the matter, he was comfortable with his theory.

The conversation shifted to Harry's abrupt departure from Diagon Alley the day before, and Ron filled him in on his mother's consternation over his disappearance. "She blamed me for it, of course," Ron was sure to tell Harry. "She thought I should have somehow stopped you from leaving. Of course we didn't mention why you left."

"You shouldn't have risked it in the first place, Harry," Hermione scolded.

_Risk_, there was that word again. Harry couldn't stand that word. He wasn't two years old in need of a babysitter. "Nothing happened," he pointed out, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. He averted both Ron and Hermione's glances, watching the view fly by the window without really seeing it.

"No, but something could have," Hermione wouldn't leave it alone. "Did you read the _Prophet_ this morning? They have searched every cranny of Gringotts' vaults and used every magical means possible to try and find Wormtail, but he just isn't there. He could be anywhere by now, doesn't that worry you?"

Harry met her eye this time and saw the apprehension there. It took him a moment to answer the question, but when he did his response was sure. "No," he shook his head. "I'm not."

Hermione searched his face carefully, not quite sure she believed him.

Harry was thankful that the food cart arrived and gave him an excuse to change the subject. However, it also brought up something else which irked him. As soon as Ron sat down with a armload of sweets from the cart, he was reminded that third years were able to participate in Hogsmeade visits throughout the school year. Ron was excited about seeing all the different shops, but was particularly excited about visiting Honeydukes Sweetshop.

"What do you want to see?" he asked Harry through a mouthful of chocolate frog.

"Doesn't matter," Harry shrugged morosely as his anger with his father returned in a flash. "I can't go."

"What?" Ron appeared not to understand.

"I can't go," Harry repeated. "Dad wouldn't sign the form. He thinks I would be…_unsafe_." He spoke the last word as if it tasted bitter on his tongue. Hermione appeared sympathetic, but didn't say anything, no doubt agreeing with James Potter completely. This did not help Harry's mood in the least, but Ron's open display of disgust and disbelief helped a little.

"You've got to change his mind," he told Harry. "Write him a letter right now. No, I'll write him…as soon as we get to school, or after the feast, whatever, I'll write your dad and get him to change his mind. I will!" he insisted despite both Harry and Hermione passing him incredulous stares. "He just needs to see reason, that's all."

"And a letter from you will contain reason?" Hermione retorted. This sparked another argument between the two which Harry tuned out, resuming his absentminded gazing out the window as the train wound its way north and the sky grew cloudy with a bitter, driving rain.

Time past as quickly as the train speeding on the tracks and darkness fell with the downpour, obscuring the windowpane. The lanterns were lit within the compartments and along the corridor, and still their sleeping companion did not wake. It felt much later than it was, but it still was a surprise when the speed of the train suddenly decreased and came to an abrupt stop. The three of them looked out the window in alarm, but it was difficult to see what was going on. Was it a break down, or what they didn't know, and it seemed that everyone else on the train was just as confused.

Then the lights went out almost immediately after the train jerked to a standstill. They were plunged into darkness, and the sound of nervous voices ran up and down the corridor. Harry heard their door slide open as Neville Longbottom appeared followed shortly after by Ginny as they joined the frazzled befuddlement of the stuffy compartment.

"Ron?" Ginny searched for her brother and found Harry, nearly sitting on him in an effort to get to an open section of the bench seat. "Sorry, Harry."

"No problem," he guided her by the elbow until she was safely seated next to him without further issue.

"What is going on?" Ron demanded in frustration while Neville exclaimed in pain when someone kicked him hard in the shin.

"Quiet!" A new voice joined theirs and the mysterious R.J. Lupin was awake. No one moved or spoke as a light appeared in his corner, a kind of illumination held in his open hand, and Harry got a better look at the man's face. Tired but alert, Lupin got to his feet with the palm-full of flames outstretched before him and moved forward as the compartment door slid open on a breath of frigid air.

* * *

It was the worst feeling he had ever had in his life, and Harry couldn't shake it off. He had faced two shadowy remnants of Voldemort in the past two years but they didn't compare to the horror of a dementor. He was thankful that they had happened to share a compartment with Professor Lupin, but Harry still could not understand why it was that he had fainted when no one else had. Ginny looked ready to pass out, but even she had managed to remain conscious in the presence of that black terror. Maybe Harry's father was right. Maybe he was incapable of protecting himself.

The thought made him even sicker with shame as he stepped out of the horse-less carriage upon reaching school no more than hour after the disturbing incident on the train. As good as it felt to be out of the rain with the promise of a plate of warm food and a comfortable bed awaiting him in Gryffindor tower, Harry could not put aside the chill which lingered in the aftermath of the dementor's presence. More than once Ron asked him if he was okay, and Hermione watched him cautiously with worry etched deep in her expression. Harry did his best to pass his discomfort off as nothing and ignore the jeers from the likes of Malfoy and his unintelligent cronies who had somehow gotten word of his fainting spell.

All this worry was quickly thrust from Harry's mind the minute he stepped into the front foyer of the school. The first thing he saw upon entering the castle was the unlikely sight of his enraged father standing on the stair.

"Dad," Harry stopped short in surprise. "What—?" The question was lost in the sea of moving bodies and amplified chatter as everyone jostled their way into the Great Hall for the opening feast.

James noticed his son's arrival, but was not there to see Harry. He stood beside an equally furious Sirius Black in the presence of Headmaster Dumbledore.

"I want to know why I wasn't notified," James demanded of the headmaster.

"Not notified?" Dumbledore did not seem ruffled at all by James Potter's curt tone and spoke as easily as if they were having a friendly conversation over tea. "All new teacher appointments were listed in the pre-term parent reference which you should have received by owl. Perhaps yours was waylaid. I will make inquiries immediately, please accept my apologies for the mix-up."

"I don't want your apologies," James retorted. "I want him gone!"

Harry attempted to separate himself from the throng of moving students in order to better hear what his father was arguing about, but Sirius took notice and encouraged his godson to stay back with a look which clearly told him not to interfere.

Harry was inclined to ignore the command, but the headmaster appeared to desire privacy as well, holding out a hand to direct both Mr. Potter and Mr. Black up the stairs and away from the bustling front hall.

"I suggest we continue this conversation in my office, gentlemen. I will gladly hear you out, James, but first I have an appointment with my students which I cannot neglect to keep. Please, make yourself comfortable in my brief absence, and help yourself to the lemon drops on my desk, they are fantastically addicting."

Dumbledore moved toward the doors of the Great Hall, meeting Harry's eye for the span of a second before disappearing within. Harry hesitated in the foyer, as if waiting for an explanation from his father which did not come.

"Go to the feast, Harry," James told him sternly. He could tell that his son wanted to ask him what he was doing there, and the fact that James did not oblige seemed to anger Harry. It was evident in the temperamental flash of color in the boy's eyes, and James had to look away. At times he hated the fact that Harry had inherited such a feature from his mother. It hurt to look at.

Unwillingly, Harry did as he was told and joined his classmates in the Great Hall behind Dumbledore. Though James did not, Sirius watched him go, not moving from the stair until he was gone.

"This won't help his opinion of you," he told James.

"That's not my highest concern right now." James led the way to the second floor landing above. "What was Dumbledore thinking?" he fumed in undertones only Sirius could hear. "What does Lupin plan on doing, sneak off to the Shrieking Shack once a month?"

"Worked before," Sirius shrugged, though he appeared to have as many doubts as James. "Although I don't know how a full-grown werewolf can be contained in there anymore."

"Precisely," James fumed. "How can Dumbledore be sure of the safety of these students, of _my_ son?"

"Yes indeed," the oily sneer of Severus Snape met them around the corner as James and Sirius turned the bend and approached the staircase leading to the third floor. Professor Snape lurked like the great bat he was, glaring with sharp eyes full of loathing through strands of greasy, black hair. "How dare the headmaster even think to put the famous son of pious James Potter in harm's way?"

"Sulking about again, are you, Snivellus?" Black had no patience for the man standing before him, and he moved to pass Snape with a condescending sneer of his own before the potion master offered his next remark.

"You should keep your dog on a chain, Potter. We don't allow strays to wander about the castle."

"And yet they've given you free range," Sirius responded just as fluidly.

The two men faced off with unblinking glares, mere inches away on the stair under a heavy cloud of disdain.

"For Merlin's sake," James separated them both by pushing through and continuing up the stair in disgust. "We are grown men. Do all of us a favor and act like it, would you?"

"I see no men here," Snape responded as Black slowly released his haughty stare and followed Potter, a step behind. "I see two self-important poor excuses for wizards who've come to complain to the headmaster because things aren't going their way. What's the matter? I thought Remus was your friend? I thought you four stuck together like glue…oh, wait," his thin lips curled into a grin with sick pleasure as both Potter and Black turned and passed him identical looks of hatred. "My mistake, I suppose," he let the insult sink in and waited for the inevitable reaction with his hand on his wand beneath the folds of his robes.

Sirius had his wand handy as well, and pulled it out in an instant, tip pointed threateningly close to Snape's protruding nose.

"Gentlemen," Dumbledore appeared at the bottom of the stairs and put an end to the verbal duel. "I would like to think that your years under my tutelage had taught you something." He moved slowly up to their level with ease. "Don't disillusion an old headmaster and make me out to be a failure."

"Not at all, Dumbledore," Black responded, lowering his wand but maintaining his unbroken gaze on his lifelong adversary. "We're merely…catching up."

"A class reunion is it?" Dumbledore was amused and not the least fooled.

"With a greater attendance then there should be," James brought the issue back to hand. "I question the soundness of your decision, Dumbledore."

"I believe I made clear that this discussion should be held in private—"

"I won't have that man teaching my son," James could have cared less what the headmaster had made clear.

"I advise you to reconsider," Dumbledore responded patiently.

"He is a danger to every student in this castle."

"As he was during his own years as a student, yet that did not keep you from befriending him," Dumbledore pointed out.

"I befriended him without knowledge of his condition," James shot back. "And he was hardly the threat his is now."

"A bite is a bite no matter the size of the werewolf. Do you honestly think I would appoint him as teacher without considering the risks and taking the necessary precautions?"

"The Shrieking Shack, you mean?" James almost laughed. "Enchantments or not, it's not exactly foolproof."

"I do not intend to send Professor Lupin to the Shrieking Shack," Dumbledore informed him calmly. "Professor Snape has agreed to produce a very effective potion which will control Remus' symptoms—"

"Snape!" Sirius barked out a derisive laugh which resulted in another sharp scowl from Severus.

"You doubt my abilities as potion maker?"

"I doubt your abilities as a human being," Sirius corrected him. "Dumbledore, come on!" he turned to the headmaster. "You know our history, how can you trust—"

"Because I do, Sirius," Dumbledore cut him off. "And that is all I will say on the subject. James," he addressed Potter, "you have every right to withdraw Harry from the school if you are unhappy with my teacher appointments. I would be greatly disappointed if you do, but that is your right. Our confidences in the past should be enough to have your trust that I mean no harm to Harry, that his presence here is vital for his future…for yours. I know you will do the right thing," he bowed slightly and turned to make his way back to the Great Hall. "Goodnight, gentlemen. Severus, don't miss out on the feast. Dessert will be served shortly, and I happen to know they are serving your favorite."

Snape passed both James and Sirius one last sneer before following the headmaster down the stair. Black was very tempted to hex him behind his back as he walked away, but managed to abstain with a deep growl of disgust.

"This is ridiculous."

James agreed, but didn't have the energy to respond. Waiting until Dumbledore and Snape were gone, he lead the way back to the foyer, debating on waiting for Harry to finish eating or to just leave without speaking with him.

"You plan on letting him stay?" Sirius sensed his friend's internal debate.

"Yes," James replied shortly without much choice. He crossed the wide foyer floor and reached for the door, deciding against seeing his son again that night.

"What about Remus?" Black wanted to know.

"What about Remus?" The question was not posed by James, but by Lupin himself who stood in the open door of the Great Hall, his shadow stretching out from the light of hundreds of candles floating mid-air behind him.

Both Sirius and James turned and stopped short at the sight of their estranged friend. A face they had not laid eyes upon in years.

James' jaw clenched in repressed hatred, his eyes flashing and betraying his feelings toward the man standing before him. Not even the ragged, poor appearance of Lupin's attire could stir him to compassion. "How did you do it?" he demanded. "Did you beg? Did you promise you would do your best not to bite the children?"

"Don't waste your time, James," Black shared his hostility. "Not on this filth."

"Hate me all you want," Remus regarded them both stoically, showing no emotion despite their cutting remarks. "I am not the reason for your pain."

"No," James agreed. "Only his biggest advocate. What will you do when we catch him, Remus? Plead for his life? How deep does your sympathy run?"

"Not nearly as deep as your wife's," Lupin reminded him.

"My wife is dead," James shot back while yanking open the door and stepping through with one last parting remark. "She has no sympathy anymore, and neither do I."


	6. Chapter 6

**Halloween Scream**

The mood of the Opening Feast was dampened somewhat for Harry, and it had little to do with the dark clouds represented in the Enchanted Ceiling of the Great Hall. He was relieved that his dad and Sirius had not asked to speak to him, but Harry wondered in agitation what they were doing there in the first place. When he had left him at King's Cross, James seemed worried, as usual, but not as irate as Harry had witnessed out in the foyer.

Hermione appeared nervous that something was wrong and Ron asked what was up, but Harry didn't have an answer. What issue could his dad have with a teacher that would bring him all the way to the school on such a night to confront Dumbledore about it? The only new teacher appointments were Professor Lupin and Hagrid, and Harry knew James didn't have any problem with Hagrid. The two men were old friends, so Harry had to assume that Professor Lupin was the object of his father's wrath.

Knowing as much did not make it any easier to understand. From what little introduction Harry had with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, there was absolutely nothing that he saw to suggest Lupin was anything but competent. He knew just how to handle the dementors on the train, and even provided the chocolate antidote to Harry's gut-wrenching chill.

Only half listening to Dumbledore's speech about keeping clear of the detemtors while they guarded the school grounds that term, Harry tried to pull up any memory he had of his dad or Sirius making mention of Professor Lupin in the past. He knew he had recognized that name, but could not think of why or what reason James would have not to like him.

Looking at the staff table to where Lupin sat during the feast, Harry grew increasingly frustrated with his father's idiosyncrasies. Whatever the explanation, it was undoubtedly something minor James blew out of proportion like usual. Harry just hoped it wasn't such a big deal that James used it as an excuse to pull him from school.

When nothing more was said about it, and Harry didn't see his dad make another appearance the rest of the night, he pushed the whole thing from his mind and gratefully joined Ron and the rest of the third years in their dormitory for some much needed sleep after the feast. Contently full and eager to start the new term, Harry did not even allow Malfoy's jeers over his fainting on the train keep him awake longer than it took for his head to hit the pillow.

Unfortunately, Harry was not allowed to forget his troubles for long. The next morning at breakfast, just as Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down to look over their new third year schedules, Hedwig appeared with a letter from James.

Harry set aside his schedule and ripped into the envelope as Hedwig helped herself to his cereal.

_Harry,_

_I apologize for not speaking to you last night while I was at the school. I had no intention of alarming you with my presence there, but felt the need to have a word with Professor Dumbledore in the matter of an addition to the staff._

_As you know, you have a new teacher by the name of Remus Lupin. Although I strongly disagree with his placement, and even though it is against my better judgment, I will allow you to remain at Hogwarts under his tutelage. Despite this, I ask you to be wary and take extra precaution, follow school policy, and be on your guard. Carry your wand at all times and, when you can, keep the Cloak with you should you need it. You did pack it in your trunk like I asked, didn't you?_

_I know that you will think my warnings unnecessary while at school, but trust me, Harry, nowhere is safe. Not for you, not even at Hogwarts._

_I expect a response from this letter soon. Let me know how your new classes are._

_Love, __Dad_

"He's lost it," Harry muttered in disbelief, staring at the single piece of parchment in his hand before dropping it listlessly on the table beside his glass of juice. Ron looked up from interrogating Hermione about her confusing course schedule and caught the disgusted look on Harry's face.

"Who what?" he asked. "Who's lost it?"

"My dad," Harry shoved the letter back in the envelope ungraciously and pushed it away. "He's warning me to stay away from Professor Lupin."

"He said that?" Hermione looked perplexed.

"Basically," Harry nudged Hedwig away from his breakfast and watched her take flight to leave the Great Hall for the Owlery. "He didn't say why though, just some nutter warning that even Hogwarts isn't safe anymore."

"Well," Ron shrugged, "never was, was it? Not from Quirrell, or the basilisk…"

"How can he think Professor Lupin would do anything to you?" Hermione cut in.

Harry just shook his head, no longer hungry and only anxious to get to class to distance himself from the letter and any thought of it before it angered him further. "Whatever," he muttered and picked up his schedule to read what his first class was. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

* * *

After the incident on the train, Harry was actually looking forward to his Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson and it seemed that most of his fellow classmates felt the same way.

Professor Lupin was receiving rave reviews for his highly informative, extremely practical, and entertaining class periods. Harry was only disappointed that he wouldn't get to see if the professor was really any good until late into his first week of term.

Instead he had to endure the devastating first class period of Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins and the disastrous results of Buckbeak accidently injuring Draco Malfoy. Harry hoped that Hagrid's career as a teacher wasn't going to be the shortest in school history.

"They can't have him sacked," Hermione tried to reassure him with a look of determination. "It's just not justifiable."

Harry only hoped she was right, he had enough to worry about as it was and couldn't bare the thought of Hagrid losing his position because of Malfoy's arrogance.

One good thing about his first week back was, in fact, Professor Lupin's class. It was all that everyone said it would be. They were only third years, but he trusted them with the thrilling task of battling a boggart. Even though Harry never got the chance to face it himself, he felt like he learned more in just one class with Professor Lupin than he had the last two years combined of DADA. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Lupin's teaching style and nothing, that Harry could see, to suggest that the professor was any threat. In fact, he was fast becoming Harry's favorite teacher.

"Oh, Harry, come in." Two months into the school year, Harry found himself outside Professor Lupin's office on the afternoon of Halloween. Unable to join the rest of his third years on their first trip to Hogsmeade, Harry had a lot of time to waste until the annual feast that evening. Professor Lupin motioned him to enter the office and noticed Harry's curiosity with a small water demon floating in a tank of water on his desk. "A grindylow," Lupin informed him, explaining the unique characteristics of the alarming creature.

"Cup of tea?" he turned from the tank and encouraged Harry to join him while tapping the kettle with the tip of his wand. "I would have thought you would have been in Hogsmeade this morning," he said as the kettle began to steam.

Harry shook his head and took a seat in front of Lupin's desk. "I'm not allowed," he explained morosely. "My dad…he doesn't think it would be a good idea." Harry glanced up at his professor and caught the strange, fleeting look which momentarily crossed Lupin's face while he poured out a cup for each of them.

It was gone in an instant and replaced with a wan smile as he passed Harry his tea. "Well, probably for the best, eh?"

Harry didn't respond, merely taking a small sip of the scalding liquid in silence.

Despite his efforts to get an explanation out of his father through his letters home, Harry had not been able to figure out what it was that had James so against Lupin teaching at Hogwarts. His dad had asked for details on Lupin's lessons and continuously repeated his warnings for Harry to be wary, but remained elusive on his reasoning.

Eyeing Professor Lupin cautiously, he decided to take a chance and fish for some answers. "Professor Lupin, do you know my dad?"

It may have been his imagination, but it seemed to Harry that Lupin set down the tea kettle rather quick.

It took a moment for Lupin to respond, fussing with his own cup and taking a drink before answering the question with one of his own. "What makes you think I might?"

"Well," Harry shrugged. "I thought maybe…you look like you might be the same age or something. Did you go to school with him?"

Lupin met his eye and held an obvious internal debate with himself before nodding slowly in confirmation. "Yes, I did. With your mother too."

Harry figured as much about his dad, but had forgotten the fact that it would mean that Lupin knew his mother as well. The thought was slightly unsettling. "Were you…friends?" He wasn't sure if he should even ask as it was obvious Lupin and his father were far from cordial now.

"Your mother and I?" Lupin seemed to know Harry referred to James, but chose to dwell on Lily instead, looking thoughtful and a little sad. "Yes, you could say that. Lily Evens had a way of being friends with everybody. She held no prejudices."

"But my dad," Harry brought him back on point. "He doesn't—"

They were interrupted suddenly by the door to the office opening as Professor Snape stepped in. A smoking goblet of some sort of liquid was in his hand, and he stopped short at the sight of Harry sitting there.

"Ah, Severus," Lupin greeted him with a smile, and tea time was over.

Harry left with his questions no further resolved, but now he had new ones to go with them. One being why would Lupin be fool enough to trust Snape to make him any sort of potion, medicinal or otherwise?

With all these thoughts swirling in his mind, Harry returned to the common room to wait for Ron and Hermione's return. The Halloween Feast was a looked-forward-to event at Hogwarts, and by the time everyone returned from their day in the village, Gryffindor tower was bustling with excited chatter. Ron unloaded all the treats he had brought back for Harry and babbled on and on about all the great things they saw in Hogsmeade. Harry filled both him and Hermione in on his visit with Lupin and Snape's potion as they walked down to the Great Hall in time for the feast. Hermione injected some logic that Snape wouldn't poison Lupin so openly in front of Harry, but that didn't fully convince him that the whole thing wasn't a bit sketchy.

They had barely passed through the doors of the Great Hall leading off the foyer when a piercing scream rent the air behind them up the stairs. Harry turned and glanced over his shoulder, stopping in the middle of the throng of students trying to move into the Great Hall.

"What the hell was that?" Ron followed Harry's gaze.

The three of them shouldered their way back out into the foyer, standing against the wall to be out of the way. They were not the only curious spectators who held up outside the doors to see what was source of the scream. Professor McGonagall arrived looking stern and encouraged everyone to move along and join their tables in the Great Hall. She reached the stairs as Professor Flitwick appeared with a Ravenclaw fourth year in tow. Looking shaken, it was obvious the fourth year had been the one to scream and she appeared erratic and close to tears.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron exchanged a confused look, holding back to hear what they could.

"Whatever is the matter?" McGonagall asked.

"Where is the headmaster?" Flitwick ignored her question and glanced toward the open doors of the Great Hall.

"Seated at the Head Table," McGonagall told him, looking flustered. "Please explain, Filius."

"Marietta believes she has seen a rat," Flitwick tried to sound sympathetic.

"A rat?" McGonagall looked from him to the emotional Marietta blankly.

"Not just a rat!" Marietta squeaked. "_The_ rat! It was him, I know it was him!"

"Come now," Flitwick did his best to calm her down. "We don't know that for certain. It could have been any old rat."

"It wasn't," she insisted irrationally with tears spilling down her flushed cheeks. "It was him, I know it! I tripped on the stairs, he was under my feet, and I saw him. He looked just like the picture in the _Prophet_!" Marietta shuddered at the memory and hugged herself protectively around the middle.

Flitwick held her under the elbow so she wouldn't slip into a weak sitting position on the stair and passed McGonagall a covert look of exasperation.

McGonagall's expression mirrored his exactly. "Keep your wits, girl. In a moment of fright the imagination has a way of playing tricks on the eye."

"It was him, Professor," this certainty came not from Marietta, but from one of the portraits on the wall at the top of the stair. The owner of the frame scrunched against the edge to make room for a plump-faced vicar eagerly wringing his hands. There were several other witnesses behind him trying to get a word in for Marietta's defense, entering nearby paintings without permission and causing a stir. "We saw him too, right on the stair running in the direction of the west wing."

"Scragglier than the kitchen rats," one observer supplied the information.

"Less mean looking than the vermin Mrs. Norris chases in the dungeons," said another.

"And his paw!" someone yelled out of sight on the wall out of Harry's line of vision. "He was missing a finger, he was!"

Professor McGonagall's face changed, and she noticed Harry and the other two for the first time, pausing a moment on the stair before springing into sudden action. "Into the Great Hall," she turned and directed what students remained in the foyer forward. Pulling Marietta along with her, she nudged Harry next while avoiding his eye and the question that hung there.

"Filius, alert Black. I'll get the headmaster."

Flitwick nodded and rushed to the front doors to leave the castle.

"Black?" Harry watched him go while McGonagall gently pushed him toward the Great Hall. "Sirius is here?"

"Go on, Mr. Potter," was all McGonagall would say. "Join your house at the table. Be quick now!" she told everyone amid the mutter of confusion and excitement. Those who had entered the Hall before Marietta screamed on the stair soon heard of the incident from those late to the feast. The details of the portrait occupant's description rippled down the tables, and everyone watched as Dumbledore rose from the staff table and followed Professor McGonagall back out into the foyer. The prefects were put in charge of taking care not to allow any of the students to leave the Hall for whatever reason, why the teachers all followed the headmaster's lead.

"Do you think it's him, then?" Ron asked Harry after they sat down next to Fred and George at the table. Ginny was there too, on the opposite side, and Harry caught her eye briefly before answering Ron's question. She looked alarmed by the prospect of an escaped murderer running about the castle. Harry wasn't so comfortable with the thought himself.

"I don't know," he muttered and watched the door anxiously.

The food arrived on the tables from the kitchens below. Most of the students dug right in, more excited in the uncertainty than afraid of it. It was hard to be fearful when they were in the festive Great Hall lit with thousands of candles and gleaming jack-o-lanterns.

"He's a fool," Hermione spoke more to herself than to either of them.

"What?" Ron asked.

She looked up from her plate which she had yet to fill. Harry had not helped himself either. He no longer had any interest in eating.

"Pettigrew," Hermione clarified. "He's a fool to think he could sneak in here and get to Harry." She met Harry's eye, looking for confirmation. "I mean, if it really is him, what was he thinking running around in the open like that?"

"Maybe he didn't think anyone would recognize him," Ron shrugged before shoveling in a forkful of potato.

"Exactly," Hermione made her point. "Completely mental. Doesn't he know he's the most wanted wizard right now? They've been printing his human and Animagi photos in every issue of the _Prophet_ for months. And why was he going to the west wing? If he's looking for you why wouldn't he go straight to Gryffindor Tower?" she asked Harry.

"Maybe he was lost," Ron considered, receiving an incredulous glare from Hermione. "What? I've been here for over two years and still can't find my way around." He made his point and continued to stuff his face.

"Yeah well, you wouldn't be able to find your way into your own Christmas jumper if Mum didn't stitch your initial on the front," Fred leaned in on Ron's other side.

"That's you, moron," Ginny piped up unexpectedly.

Ron laughed uproariously and sprayed mashed food across the table to the disgust of them all.

Harry hardly heard a word of the argument, and the meal ended without him taking much more than a bite of dessert while they waited for what seemed like ages for the teachers to return.

When Dumbledore entered from the foyer, a hush fell over the room as they gave them all their undivided attention. Harry noticed Sirius step in and stand silently by the door. His eyes searched the room and landed on Harry but he did not smile or even nod in greeting.

Dumbledore addressed them all without ceremony and got right down to it. "It is believed that Peter Pettigrew has been sighted in our halls," he said, receiving the expected murmur of alarm. Dumbledore waited for the noise to cease before speaking again. "We have done a thorough search and were unable to verify it was in fact the outlaw Animagus, Wormtail. If he did, in fact, break through our defenses, he has once again escaped."

This wasn't taken very well either. By the nervous glances and muttered questions, most students wanted more reassurance that Pettigrew was actually gone.

"Extra surveillance is being implemented," Dumbledore tried to quell their reservations. "And now that the feast is done, I insist that you all return directly to your dormitories and remain there for the night. Prefects," he addressed them and prepared to dismiss the school, "lead your houses in an orderly fashion."

The noise of moving benches and renewed babble filled the room as prefects called for order and everyone filtered out into the foyer, headed in the direction of their perspective common rooms.

Harry held back, allowing Ron and Hermione to go ahead of him. Slipping between the tables, he wound his way through the crowd in an effort to get closer to Sirius where he had moved out of the way to allow the students to all pass. He stood conversing with Dumbledore and, of all people, Snape.

"Out of my way, Potter," Draco Malfoy knocked into Harry as he passed, sneering under the dimwitted shadow of his lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry didn't have time or patience for any of them, keeping his eyes on Sirius with the hopes of getting close enough to hear what he was saying to Dumbledore without being spotted.

"Looks like you missed your chance at revenge again," Malfoy wasn't done yet. "I'm surprised you haven't laid out the mouse traps and done away with the lousy rat for good. That's what I would do." Crabbe and Goyle found him very funny. Harry did not.

"Shut up, Malfoy," he slipped through a slow moving crowd of Hufflepuffs and got within earshot of Sirius, whose back was turned.

"…I hate to admit it, but I agree with Snape," he was telling Dumbledore. "I know he's a rat, but how could he possibly get through the dementors without inside help? We're watching every entrance."

"Every?" Snape's eyes narrowed, and Sirius scowled impatiently.

"Yes,_ every._"

"Then our old friend has found a cunning knew way to infiltrate our halls," Dumbledore said, sounding more pleasant than his expression conveyed. Black took the hint and let it drop reluctantly, noticing Harry over his shoulder, and turning with a drop of the conversation.

"Best be getting to your dormitory, Harry," Dumbldore noticed him as well.

"I will, sir," Harry assured him.

The headmaster nodded and walked off as Snape trailed behind him with a scowl.

"Hey," Harry addressed Sirius. "I didn't know you were here."

"Been here," he nodded. "I'm part of the surveillance team assigned to keep vermin out." Sirius was aware of the irony. "My apologies for not succeeding."

"You're sure it was him?" Harry asked.

"No," Sirius shook his head. "Not entirely, but it could have been, and we'll keep looking until there is absolutely no place he could be hiding. That's a promise." He did not want Harry to worry.

Harry wasn't thinking about himself. "Did you tell my dad?"

"What, about this?" Sirius waved a lazy hand. "Not yet, no. Why?"

"Don't," Harry said. "Please, Sirius, don't tell him."

His godfather let out a short chuckle, but Harry was serious.

"You don't even know if it was Wormtail," he argued.

"Don't give James anymore unnecessary worry," Sirius nodded, understanding completely. "Alright," he consented. "Though word will probably get out without my help you know. Your dad likes to live in seclusion, but he does speak to other wizards and witches once in a while."

Harry nodded, but hoped the rumor mill wouldn't run too quickly to the Potter cottage on the hill. "Thanks, Sirius." He prepared to follow the rest of his classmates out of the Great Hall.

"Harry," Sirius stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Take it easy," he said, his way of telling his godson to be careful. "If you need me, I'll be close by. I'm staying at the Shrieking Shack, do you know where that is?"

"The Shrieking Shack?" Harry had heard about the apparently haunted house outside of Hogsmeade. Ron and Hermione had just been talking about it that afternoon. "You…you're staying there?"

"Yeah," Sirius flashed him a reckless grin. "It's not as bad as it sounds, trust me." Letting Harry go, he walked away to take another stroll around the castle in search of rats.


	7. Chapter 7

**Soggy Pitch**

The locker room floor was littered with discarded robes, crumpled socks, and open broom kits. The sound of a dripping shower head interrupted the distant shouts of players mid-flight through the partially open door leading to the pitch. The lamps were lit as well as a energetic fire in the small wood-burning stove where the Gryffindor Chasers had left their cloaks hanging to warm for the walk back to the castle after practice. The other members of the team had been more careless, leaving theirs draped over benches or open locker doors in a haphazard manner. The sounds of energetic chatter and lighthearted jeering grew in volume as the incessant drilling of Captain Wood came to an end for the evening and the exhausted team returned to shower and change before supper. As Katie Bell pushed through the door and entered the room first, there was a scurrying along the wall behind the stove, a flick of a tail, and small squeak as a rodent slipped out of sight into the shadows.

"Thanks a lot, George. I'd managed to stay relatively dry until now." Katie shrugged off her outer practice robe and held it away from her as the hem dripped muddy water all over the floor.

"You should'a kept out of my way then," George barged into the room with a grin. His uniform was soaked from collar to cuff, despite the fact that the weather had been fair all afternoon. A mid-morning rain had left the pitch soggy and an open temptation for the teammates to push one another off their brooms into puddles when drills called for low flying positions close to the ground.

"I wasn't in your way, you dolt," Katie argued.

"It was a fine swerve though," Fred appeared and supported his brother's flying ability. "You nearly missed her, but managed a direct hit in the end."

"Dropped this though," Alicia walked in holding George's Beater's bat and promptly smacked him on the shoulder with it.

He gave an over exaggerated wince, took the bat, and acted as if he would return the favor.

"Don't you dare," Alicia produced her wand in a flash. "Didn't your mum teach you not to hit girls?"

"Self-defense," George raised his hands in surrender, backed away, and nearly tripped over a pair trainers sticking out from beneath a bench.

Oliver Wood arrived from the pitch next while carrying a cumbersome box holding a Quaffle and a pair of Bludgers. He appeared to be deep in a conversation with himself, handing out tips and gameplay instructions to a team who were no longer paying attention. "…what we lack in speed, we need to make up for in cunning. Angelina, I want you to lead the passing game. We can't give them any time to gang up on any one of you." Dropping the box, Oliver kicked it open. "Got the Snitch, Harry?"

Harry stepped through the door last, behind Angelina Johnson. Switching his broom to his left hand, he reached in his pocket with his right and produced the shinning golden ball. The wings fluttered at his touch, but otherwise remained still in his hand. Harry encouraged it to take flight for a second, letting it get ahead before deftly catching it in the air and tucking it away in its place in the box.

"Anyone notice that the Slytherins have only practiced once in the last few weeks?" Katie pointed out while digging in her locker.

"Can't do much, can they?" Fred said. "Not with their Seeker's arm injury."

"_Fake_ injury," Harry muttered while disentangling himself from his soggy uniform.

"Nevertheless, they'll be tough," Oliver frowned at a strategy board full of a confusion of markings meant to represent the players moving about in the air between the goal hoops. He manipulated them in varying formations with lazy flicks of his wand and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "They're collectively a much faster team."

"Yeah, but we've got Harry," George grinned from his place at the end of a bench. "The best Seeker in school history."

"I don't know," Alicia met Katie's eye with a playful twinkle in her eye. "We caught Hufflepuff's Seeker working on his flying before one of our practices last week. He was looking pretty good, wouldn't you say, Katie?"

"_Very_ good," she agreed with a giggle.

"But we're not playing Hufflepuff first match, are we?" George ripped off his muddy sock and whipped it at them both. The girls shrieked and dodged the dripping mess before grabbing their things and disappearing into the girl's shower room with laughter and excited chatter following through the door closing behind them.

"Bloody females," George muttered ungraciously.

"Watch it, Weasley," Angelina warned without much malice.

"Alright, you lot," Madam Hooch appeared suddenly. "Get a move on. It's late and I'm starving. I haven't got all night."

"No need to wait," Fred assured her with a shrug. "We'll keep an eye on the lad for you." Grabbing Harry in a choke-hold, he roughly mussed up the Seeker's already disheveled mop of hair and knocked Harry's glasses askew in the process.

"Can't allow that, I'm afraid," Hooch shook her head and bounced on her heels with an air of professionalism. "My orders from Professor McGonagall were to keep Harry in my sights until he's safely through the castle doors. Hit the showers, boys. Miss Johnson, tell those girls to hurry. Wood," she reached for the door again, pausing on her way out once she noticed Oliver staring at the board, still fully dressed for practice and not moving. "You've done all that you can for the evening. Tomorrow is another day, another practice."

"Yes, ma'am," he reluctantly pulled himself away and crossed the room to his locker.

Fred waited until Madam Hooch was gone before letting Harry go and gently shoving him toward the bench in front of them. "Let's go little one, mustn't keep the babysitter waiting."

"Sorry, guys," Harry mumbled in annoyance, wishing McGonagall would butt out and let him have a little freedom at least.

"Ignore them," Angelina sympathized kindly while rolling her eyes at Fred and George. "I like having Madam Hooch at our practices. We've never played better; her advice and direction is just what we need to beat Slytherin. We should be thanking Harry," she narrowed her expression at the twins on her way to the shower room.

"Only joking, Harry," Fred agreed wholeheartedly.

"Yeah, mate," George slapped Harry on the shoulder. "Anything to keep you alive. We're nothing without you."

It was a nice sentiment, but while Harry stood beneath the steaming hot spray of the shower head and washed away the layer of muck, he wished more than ever that Pettigrew would finally get caught and sent back to Azkaban. Maybe then Harry's life could return to some sort of normalcy, whatever that was.

* * *

"Let's go, Prongs! We're going to be late," Sirius called up the cottage stairs, leaning impatiently against the wall with his arms crossed. "What is it you're doing, polishing your antlers?"

"You must get your humor from your house elf," James appeared dressed in proud scarlet and gold, slipping a thick traveling cloak over his shoulders as he descended into the main floor sitting room.

"He's not my bloody house elf," Sirius took offense to his jest, cursing the name of Kreacher and the house the elf was in service to.

"Magical law would dictate otherwise," James led the way through the house to the kitchen.

"To hell with your magical law," Sirius followed close behind, grabbing his own cloak from the back of a chair and pulling it on. "Fabulous weather for a match."

James snorted derisively, "I don't envy them in the least," he glanced out the kitchen window as the wind whipped through the trees in the garden. "It'll be worse up north. No doubt it's raining a deluge." He grabbed an umbrella from its stand by the door just in case. "It reminds me of that one match—"

"Fifth year verses Ravenclaw in a whiteout blizzard," Sirius reminisced. "They lost a Chaser in the storm for several hours if I remember right."

"That was terrible," James responded mildly, "but no, that was snow. I was thinking about fourth year, against Hufflepuff, remember? The pitch flooded under all the rain. I had to jump into three feet of icy water to get the Snitch. It was closer to their Seeker, but she refused to go in after it. We won by four hundred and thirty points."

"Well," Sirius shrugged. "We would have done that rain or no rain. Their Keeper was as incompetent as Kreacher."

"Let's go," James held fast to the door against the fierce gale to allow Sirius to leave the cottage first. "We're going to be late."

"I think I said that," Sirius's snide comment was lost in the wind, and the two men disaparated at once in the center of the empty lane.

The visiting spectator stands were already filling when they arrived, and it took James and Sirius some time to procure seats. Shaking hands with old friends and greeting acquaintances, they settled in and tried to make the best of the poor conditions. Wands were out, casting drying spells, invisible umbrella walls over the heads of those who had not brought protection from the falling rain. One thoughtful witch, the mother of a Hufflepuff Beater, passed out mugs of steaming cocoa to all who cared to indulge.

"Hufflepuff?" Sirius looked around. "I thought we were playing Slytherin."

"Change of plans," one father leaned in to explain. "Something about an injured Seeker."

"On the Slytherin team, you mean?" Sirius glanced at James, who looked uneasy for a moment until he spotted Harry stepping out onto the pitch with the rest of his team.

"How is he ever going to see the Snitch in this?" James glanced warily at the stormy sky.

"He's a Potter," Sirius didn't seem to think it was a problem. "No way he'll miss it. Easy win, this. If it was Slytherin it might have been a little rough, but we'll be out of this in no time now."

The father apparently supported Hufflepuff, for he did not look pleased by Sirius' statement and ignored the two of them from there on out. When the Hufflepuff team crossed the field and Captain Cedric Diggory shook hands with Oliver Wood, he jumped to his feet and clapped enthusiastically, cheering in a bellowing voice. "That'a boy, Cedric!"

Sirius avoided getting an elbow in the face, scooting over on the bench a few inches in annoyance. "Settle down, man," he muttered so that only James could hear. "They haven't done anything yet."

The whistle blew and both teams rose on their brooms into the air. They looked like tiny puppets bobbing around on string in the wind, hardly able to control where they flew. James tried to keep his eyes on Harry, but soon lost track of him in the confusion of players and heavy mist. The stands were a constant roar of cheering, sounding like a dull, white noise within the confines of the stadium.

"Where is he?"

"There," Sirius pointed as Harry whizzed by, swerving out of the way of a Bludger intent on unseating him from his broom.

James followed him closely with his eyes shaded from the rain by his hand. With the trained eyes of a natural Seeker, he kept watch on his son while scanning the field for a glitter of gold. Once he was sure he saw it within reach of Harry's broom, but it was gone in an instant, blown off course by the force of the wind before Harry turned around.

"This is impossible."

"Relax," Sirius assured him. "It's early yet, he'll get it."

But time dragged on. Both teams scored with Gryffindor maintaining the lead, but the Snitch remained evasive as ever. Lightning flashed and lit up the field, and James caught sight of Harry circling high in the air as the whistle sounded.

"Gryffindor time-out!" Madam Hooch magnified her voice with her wand, and all the players converged on the ground in separate huddles.

Sirius slumped back on his seat and shook water from his hair, sending a cold spray into the face of the supportive Hufflepuff man to his left. Letting out a grunt sounding much like a low growl, Black pulled his cloak tighter across his shoulders. "Forget hot cocoa, where's a bit of Firewhiskey when you need it?"

"Madame Rosemerta's after the game?" James suggested.

"No question," Sirius agreed. "What about you mate?" he turned to Cedric's father next. "Care to celebrate the Gryffindor win over a drink?"

Diggory frowned without response, focusing on the field where the players got into position to resume the game.

"Who was that?" Sirius squinted, noticing the female student running away from the Gryffindor team, back to the stands.

"Hermione," James was certain. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was anyway."

"What was she doing?" Sirius asked. "Not giving advice, I hope. That girl knows nothing about Quidditch. Bright as hell, but not about flying."

The match continued, and Harry seemed to be having an easier time flying. The wind was still pounding relentlessly, but he had full control of his broom and searched intensely for the Snitch. James could tell he longed to end the game as badly as everyone in the stands wanted him too. It was getting bitterly cold, chest tightening, frigidly cold. James could feel it in his bones like a crippling ache.

"Oh hell," Sirius gasped and clutched his friend's arm suddenly, and James looked at him in alarm. Sirius' face had lost all its color. His eyes looked panicked and his fingers clung like a death grip to James' wrist. "Prongs," he fought for air. He tried to say more, but nothing came out but a ragged breath as he shivered and seemed to sink within himself.

James whipped his head around back to the field. The cold had seemed to affect the entire stadium, an uneasy murmur rippled through the stands, mixed with alarm at the sight of both Harry and Cedric Diggory speeding toward the Snitch at one end of the pitch. James watched in horror as Harry stopped and noticed what the rest of the spectators had already seen. Dementors, hundreds of them converging on the field below like a black mass of doom. The look on his face mirrored the anguish James felt in his gut. Like a clanging gong, he heard within his mind the wails of his infant son on the night he found him alone in his room, alone but for the still form of Lily on the floor.

Like witnessing a nightmare come to life, James felt himself rise as if in slow motion at the same instant that Harry began to fall. A yell caught in his throat as Sirius abruptly collapsed out of his seat.

James did not see or hear Dumbledore's spell which saved his son from being killed by the terrible fall. He scrambled out of the stands, pushing people aside and jumping down onto the field. Sprinting across the sodden grass, he reached Harry's immobile body as the rest of the players sped out of the sky.

There was a confusion of cheering from the Hufflepuff stands as Diggory came up with the Snitch and the sound of horror and panic at the scene played out on the field. Dumbledore dispelled the dementors from the stadium with a booming voice and a forcefully conjured spell which filled the stands with light stronger than the flashes of lightning in the blackened sky.

"Harry!" James knelt in the mud and pulled his son close to his chest. Harry did not wake; his eyelids did not even flutter.

"Do not move him, James," Dumbledore appeared. "Lay him still. We must get him to the hospital wing."

Disregarding the headmaster's instructions, James picked up Harry and carried him off the field and out of the stadium.

* * *

"Damn that old willow," Sirius held the pieces of the splintered Nimbus forlornly. The hospital ward was empty aside from him, James, and Harry lying awake on one of the beds. The rest of the Gryffindor team had been by to visit, but were now gone to allow the patient to rest alone with his family.

Sirius glanced at Harry apologetically and set the broom aside. "Forget about it," he waved it off as if it were nothing, crossing to the side of the bed and taking an empty chair opposite James. Sitting down, he put his propped his feet on the edge of the side table. "A broom can always be replaced."

Harry knew he was just trying to make him feel better, but it wasn't working. Neither him or James had hardly said a word since he had awoken and found out that not only had they lost the game, but his broom as well. He was certain of what his dad was thinking, and Harry had to admit he was probably right. So much for being safe at school, even with Dumbledore there to protect him. The headmaster might have slowed his fall, but the dementors should not have been there in the first place.

Thinking of the faceless figures, Harry felt sick again and tried to push the image and the sound of screaming out of his head. He hated the effect the dementors had on him and felt ashamed for his inability to control his fear when they were around.

"Nasty bastards, aren't they?" Sirius seemed to read his mind. "Damn things made me bump the back of my head going down in the bleachers."

"You…" Harry wasn't sure if he understood him right. "You fainted too?"

"Of course," Sirius wasn't ashamed to admit it. "That many in one place…" He shivered convulsively. "I don't always, mind you, but I don't usually come across that many in one place without warning to prepare myself first. Not a pleasant thing for anybody," he glanced quickly at James who sat silently while staring at the foot of Harry's bed.

Harry caught the look and followed it. "Dad," he pulled James back from his reverie. "I'm sorry about my Nimbus."

"Oh Merlin, Harry," James sat up straight in his chair. "No one cares about the broom."

"I do," Harry retorted.

"Yes, but it can be replaced," his father assured him. "Don't think about the Nimbus. You need to rest."

"You're not mad about the dementors?"

"Hell yes, I'm mad," James responded bluntly. "But that wasn't your fault, or even Dumbledore's. Although I hope he does something about it before the next match."

Harry met his eye in mild surprise. He had half expected his dad to ban him from playing for the rest of the year.

"Ridiculous…" James shook his head. "You had that Snitch. That Hufflepuff kid just got lucky."

"Ha!" Sirius barked. "Tell that to his puffed up father. I nearly hexed the man's mouth shut after the game was finally decided for Hufflepuff…and well, you know, I picked myself up off the ground and all. He was going on and on about how great a catch it was and what a skilled flyer his boy is. Downright obnoxious, it was."

"Like you never boast about Harry," James suppressed a knowing grin.

"It's not boasting when it's plain truth," Sirius argued.

Harry rolled his eyes and leaned back on his pillows. His head hurt and he felt like he would like to sleep for the entirety of his hospital weekend stay. Anything to avoid thinking about the screaming echoes in his mind.

"We should go," James noticed his look of exhaustion. "Unless…" he almost asked if Harry wanted him to stay, but their eyes met once again, and he seemed to decide against it. "You'll be fine," he patted his son's knee and began to raise from his seat as Sirius left his. "Send me an owl though, if you need anything."

Harry nodded.

"Heal up quick, kid," Sirius told him. "Your team needs you for the next match."

"To fly on what, a kitchen broom?" Harry asked facetiously.

"Have a little more faith," Sirius grinned and backed away from the bed toward the open doors of the hospital wing.

James waited until he was gone before turning back to Harry to say goodbye. "You'll listen to Madam Pomfrey?"

Harry nodded once more and withheld his annoyance. He thought maybe he would avoid the unnecessary warnings and babying.

"Good," James nodded, leaving it at that, and turning to go. "Get some sleep then."

"Dad," Harry stopped him, hesitating only a moment before posing a question. "What do you hear?"

James' eyebrows knit in an expression of thoughtful curiosity.

"What bad memory do the dementors remind you of?"

Harry's father took a moment to respond, and he wondered if it was because James was forming a lie or if he simply dreaded speaking the truth.

"What do the dementors make everyone remember?" he finally spoke with an expression of exhaustion all his own. "Just my very worst nightmare." Nodding slightly, he gave no further explanation and tossed his cloak over his shoulders. "Goodnight, Harry."

As he walked to the door, a small smile pulled at the corner of James' mouth as he thought of something. "You really are the best damn flyer in the school," he glanced back before slipping out the door. "I hope you know that."


	8. Chapter 8

**AN-Here's another chapter, patient readers! Sorry it took so long to post! :D**

**"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." **

Harry had always thought highly of the Weasley twins, but to be bequeathed the fantastically useful magical map only raised his appreciation for George and Fred further. Following the secret passage behind the one-eyed witch wasn't exactly the quickest route to Hogsmeade, but it served its purpose and got Harry into Honeyduke's without being seen. The surprise on Ron and Hermione's faces was priceless and completely worth the risk of getting caught off school grounds.

There was plenty to see in the bustling village despite the heavy snow which fell upon the heads of the many busy Christmas shoppers moving from shop to shop. Ron suggested they check out the Shrieking Shack, but Harry wanted to avoid the possibility of running into Sirius so they headed for the Three Broomsticks instead. The promise of a table by the fire with a warm drink in hand sounded like heaven in the wet and bitter chill.

"Harry, wait!" Hermione grabbed his arm and stopped him abruptly with a hoarse whisper before they stepped from the cover of an awning down the lane from the Three Broomsticks.

He glanced over in time to see Sirius walk around the corner in the direction of the pub. He wore a weather-worn, hooded cloak pulled up to keep off the snow, but Harry had no trouble recognizing him. Sinking back into the shadows, he watched to see where his godfather planned on going before making another move.

Sirius did not enter the pub immediately, but halted outside with his head bent over what appeared to be a small piece of parchment in his hand. He did not look up until the sound of a door opening with the ring of a bell drew his attention to the post office across the street.

Harry's stomach lurched before immediately burning with annoyance at the sight of his father stepping out into the street to meet Sirius. What was James doing there _now_? It was nice of him to have neglected to even mention to his son that he was going to be so near Hogwarts. Was he planning on popping up to the school for a visit? Harry did not like surprises.

Cursing under his breath, he glanced around for a way of escape. Ron did his best to blend in with the side of the building they were pressed against while Hermione merely appeared exasperated with an "I-told-you-so" sort of expression without sympathy.

"Now what?" she asked with her arms crossed.

"Hide me," Harry physically moved her by the shoulders to stand in front of him as he ducked down to her height in desperation.

"The man owns an Invisibility Cloak," Ron pointed out, "but does he think to bring it on an illegal trip to town?"

"It's not _illegal_."

"Yes, don't exaggerate, Ronald," Hermione rolled her eyes. "He won't be sent to Azkaban, only expelled." She cut her glare to Harry next and made her point that he was an idiot for thinking he would get away with it.

"Shut up, both of you," Harry snapped with his eyes on James and Sirius as they began to make their way down the street passed where the three of them stood, walking in a lazy fashion while in conversation. Harry was now very thankful for the heavy snow which helped conceal them within the shadow of the awning. He strained to hear what Sirius was saying without drawing attention to himself.

"Of course I got it," he was telling James. "Not going to walk around with it though, am I? It's at the Shack, we can get it before you leave."

"I'm leaving now," James told him. He held the piece of paper that Sirius must have given him, and he read it with a blank expression before folding it and tucking it inside his cloak.

"You just got here," Sirius argued. "Stop in for a drink at least, it's bloody cold out."

"I can't," James responded in distraction without stopping even when Sirius slowed down. "I need to get back."

"Without seeing Harry?" The question was accusatory, and Sirius meant it to be.

James held up this time and glanced back at his friend. "He'll be home for break soon."

"Why the hell does that matter?" Sirius shot back, before shaking his head in disgust when James did not respond. "I've been up there several times and managed to avoid him," he added, and Harry was sure Sirius wasn't talking about him anymore. "Don't let that stop you from seeing your son whenever you damn well please."

"I'm not," James didn't appreciate the insinuation.

"Then what's the problem?"

Harry's father opened his mouth to respond but was cut off when the door to the Three Broomsticks suddenly opened behind Sirius. Both men looked and caught sight of the form which stepped out into the wind wrapped up in frayed, patched cloak and thick, hand-knit scarf.

Professor Lupin stopped short in the snow in uncomfortable surprise to see them both standing there.

"The plot thickens," Ron muttered before Hermione elbowed him sharply in the stomach to shut him up.

Harry watched tensely, his gaze darting between Lupin and his dad with anticipation.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Remus appeared wary but kept his tone cordial.

"It was, yes," Sirius responded snidely.

Harry caught Lupin's jaw tighten as he nodded curtly and prepared to step around James and Sirius without further delay. "If you'll excuse me…"

"Everyone else does," Sirius moved aside with an exaggerated bow, "why not us?"

Lupin appeared as if it was taking a great deal of effort to hold back a retort to Sirius' sharp sarcasm. The two men met one another's glare and held it as James stepped forward by Sirius' side. Only moments before the two were sparing over his parental neglect, now they were immediate allies against a common foe.

"You're looking a little ill, Remus," James spoke. "Are you sure you should be out in this weather?"

"I'm doing just fine," Lupin assured him shortly. "But I'm on my way back to the castle right now. When I see Harry, I'll be sure to tell him that I saw you. Unless you're headed there yourself," he gestured up the lane in the direction of Hogwarts.

Lupin unknowingly hit on a sore spot, and James' dark look deepened with distaste.

"Stay away from Harry," he demanded.

Lupin's eyebrows rose, "A rather difficult request to follow, James. I am his teacher after all."

"_Only_ his teacher."

"I have not claimed to be anything more."

Sirius somehow found this amusing, laughing his boisterous laugh which echoed off the shop fronts and dense mounds of snow in the street. Hogsmeade had grown quiet, nothing but falling flakes of white, the occasional door slam, and the sound of Sirius' mirth. Harry, Ron and Hermione had not moved; Harry barely breathed so as to not miss any word of the tense exchange.

Lupin looked tired. "I have done no harm to Harry," he said. "And I don't plan to."

"No harm?" James shot forward, and his wand appeared in an impulsive gesture. "You call the loss of his mother '_no harm_?'"

Lupin's own wand was drawn, followed quickly by Sirius'. A flash of anger appeared in Remus' eyes as color rose in his face. "Enough of the blame, James!" he held his wand at the ready and didn't back down despite the fact he was outnumbered two to one. "I had no control over Peter!"

"No, you were just his biggest supporter," James shot back.

"Lily wanted Peter as secret keeper too," Remus reminded him.

"After _you_ suggested it."

"What difference does it make? Sirius or Peter, me or anyone else… Voldemort was hell bent on finding you, James. He would have tortured Sirius until death had it been him like you wanted."

"And I would have taken the secret to the grave!" Sirius shouted vehemently with a pointed thrust of his wand in Lupin's direction.

"Stop making excuses for him," James continued his argument with Remus. "Wormtail wasn't tortured. He gave us up willingly! You were wrong about him, like you always were. You were soft and a fool to stand by him. Lily trusted your word, and now she's dead—"

"We _all_ trusted him!" Lupin broke in with voice raised. "But the only one of us standing here failed her that night, James, and that was you! You call me a fool yet where were you when she needed you? When Harry needed you that night? Stand up for him all you want," he gestured madly at Sirius, "but you and I both are waiting for answers on that. Twelve years, James!" The grief was apparent on Remus' weary expression. "It's over, it's done and there is nothing we can do to change it. Stop taking it out on everyone else. Stop taking it out on Harry."

Harry could not see his father's face, but imagined it matched his own. Anger seethed deep within and bubbled to the surface, threatening to explode. Liars, they were all liars and cowards. His father was the weakest of them all, and Harry hated him for it.

"You know nothing of the past twelve years!" James shouted as he hit Remus with a spell that forced him hard against the wall of the Three Broomsticks . "You know nothing of me, nothing of Harry. You were not here to know!"

"Whose fault is that?" Lupin was pinned and breathing heavy from the blow.

"The fault is mine," James moved forward in two quick steps and grabbed the front of Lupin's cloak in a tight fist. "I admit it without apology. You say you want to do Harry no harm, yet you sympathize with that murdering rat still. Tell me how I can ever trust you? Your judgment is flawed, and the fact that you accept help from Snape is enough proof of that. You may have Dumbledore convinced—"

"Harry," Sirius' surprise broke James' concentration, and he glanced over his shoulder to find his son standing in the middle of the snow-covered street with his wand pointed directly at his father. James' face lost color, and all three men stood stunned at the sight of Harry and his expression of disdain.

"Harry," James released Lupin and stepped toward his son. "You shouldn't be here."

"Why, so I wouldn't hear the truth?" Harry didn't move and didn't lower his wand.

James looked guilty but admitted nothing. Hermione and Ron stood uncertainly a few feet behind Harry and glanced between Sirius and Lupin as if waiting for one of them to tell them what to do.

"Lower your wand," Sirius dropped his own with a lazy wave of his hand at Harry. "Come on, kid. We can talk about this, but not here. I'm freezing my ass off and the snow's not about to quit."

"Let's go," James agreed. "It's not safe for you here. I'll walk you back to the castle."

"Go home," Harry wasn't in the mood to humor any of them. They all made him sick. "Don't come here anymore. Stay away from Hogwarts," he dropped his wand hand and backed away. He spoke to both James and Sirius, but directed his disappointment at his father. "Stay away from me."

What was wrong with him? James Potter was a hypocrite to toss blame like poison darts over pointless details all the while hiding the truth of his failure from his own son. Harry was better off facing Pettigrew on his own. Sirius wasn't any good to him either, just as much as a liar as James.

Harry left them all standing in the middle of the deserted street and returned to Hogwarts through the hidden passage from which he came. He had always trusted what James had told him about that night. Who would doubt that Voldemort had forced his way into the cottage in Godrick's Hallow, injured James in his explosive entry, and killed Lily to get to Harry. It was what he had always been led to believe. Never would he have guessed that James was never there to begin with. How could he do it? How could he leave them there alone, and why?

The revelation brought more questions than answers, and it all led back to one thing for Harry. The Potters were not prepared for Voldemort's malice. He caught them unawares as a result of Wormtail's deception. No matter what came before, it all filtered down to Pettigrew.

Harry wasn't going to stand for his father's over-protection anymore. James no longer deserved the right to hold him back. It was Harry who Voldemort had been after, his mother who was betrayed, and now he would be the one to put an end to the traitor behind it all. Let the rat slip in and find him. Harry would be ready and waiting.

* * *

Before there was even a knock on the office door, Fawkes glanced up and notified the headmaster that someone wished to have a word with him. Dumbledore waited for the petition nonetheless and answered it in the affirmative.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," he glanced over the rims of his half-moon spectacles with a pleasant expression from where he worked at his desk. "What do I owe this pleasure? An early Christmas greeting?"

"I'll give it if you want," James moved forward into the room and stood before Dumbledore, waiting for an invitation to have a seat. The headmaster gave it with a nod and a smile at the nearest cushioned chair before the desk. "But that's now why I'm here."

"I thought not," Dumbledore crossed his fingers and rested his hands on the open parchment in front of him to give James his full attention. "What can I do for you?"

"You can explain to me why it is I insist on behaving like an ass in front of my son."

"Just in front of Harry?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and James took the point but wasn't entirely grateful for it. "What did you do this time?"

"Had a bit of row with an old friend in the middle of the village, I'm afraid," he admitted.

"The pain of old wounds tend to linger," the headmaster understood completely.

"Harry overheard a small detail about the night of Lily's death that I had, until now, managed to keep out of the telling."

"Ah," Dumbledore did not need this to be explained either. "Might I rightly assume that he was not all too understanding?"

"You may." James dropped his head and stared at his hands in defeat. It was quiet a moment as the two men drifted into their own thoughts. Fawkes' feathers ruffled and the intriguing instruments around the room made curious noises of their own.

"I should have listened to you, Dumbledore," James spoke eventually. "You were right. He would have been better off growing up even with those cursed Dursleys than with me. I am a failure as a father, and I will never be able to protect him the way his mother's blood could."

"And yet," Dumbledore input, "he has survived. Both under your care and while at school, even with Voldemort's schemes against him."

"But he could have died," James looked up and there were tears in his eyes. "He barely survived facing a mere fragment of the Dark Lord two years ago."

"But he _did_," Dumbledore stressed. "Take the good with the bad and be thankful, man. Harry is no ordinary boy; give him some credit along with yourself. He is a powerful wizard even at thirteen. Part of that comes from you."

"He doesn't want anything to do with me," James lamented, "and I don't blame him. I see the way he looks at me. I've seen it for some time and always tell myself to do better…but I can't." His head dropped once more, ashamed to even meet the headmaster's keen eye. "I don't know how."

"You have forgotten Lily," Dumbledore told him.

James scoffed at this, laughing humorlessly. "She is all that I think about."

"You have forgotten her," Dumbledore insisted. "If you hadn't, you would know what to do with Harry. You would not be so hard on yourself if you recalled her faith in you."

James absorbed this announcement but it was hard for the old professor to tell if it made an impression or not. Potter sighed heavily and sat up straight in his seat as if prepared to take his leave. "It was kind of you not to point out Harry's disregard for the rules for being in Hogsmeade today," he changed the subject.

Dumbledore shrugged it off. "He was with you."

"Yes, well," James chuckled, "we'll pretend that's true for his sake. He has my permission to go from now on. At least, I give it to you to grant at your discretion. My son has expressed his desire that I keep my distance from the school." James got to his feet, " and I don't disagree." He met Dumbledore's eye with a steady gaze before turning and walking to the door. "I leave him under your protection, as I should have done exclusively a long time ago."

"You sound like a man who has given up."

"Do I?" James paused with his hand on the door, appearing thoughtful. "Given up what?"

"Hope," Dumbledore responded.

James shrugged. "Maybe I have. Maybe I'm just tired of being a failure in Harry's eyes."

"All the more reason to keep trying," the headmaster gave the final word and watched his old student slip out and close the door.


	9. Chapter 9

**Holiday Cheer**

Sirius Black aparated outside the Potter cottage shortly before eight o'clock in the evening and stepped through the gate into the snow-covered front garden. Candles were lit in the windows which was more than he expected from James. He had always made an attempt at Christmas for Harry's sake, but to do so when the boy wasn't expected home seemed out of character for the widower.

Sirius let himself in the kitchen door without bothering to knock or announce his arrival. The room was empty with only a single lantern lit over the table. Walking through the small abode, Sirius heard James stepping down the stairs as he entered the sitting room. "Ready to go, mate?"

"I don't know why I let you talk me into this." James appeared at the bottom of the stair wearing a set of dress robes and looking uncomfortable.

"It is a Ministry of Magic Christmas ball," Sirius pointed out with a wide grin at his friend's discomfort. "You are technically still employed by the Ministry."

James' frown deepened, but he had no argument for that.

"It will be good for you," Sirius said. "And even better for me; the party will be insufferable without you."

"Certainly you can hold your own with Fudge's fan club?"

"Intolerable asses," Sirius shook his head in disgust, "but no, I was thinking more of Lucius and my dear cousin, 'Cissy.' You know they've been wanting to get their hands on Grimmauld Place?"

"Whatever for?" James reached for his traveling cloak.

"For all the hidden treasure, not doubt." Both men chuckled sardonically at this, and on their way out of the cottage, Sirius noticed the long, carefully wrapped package standing upright in the corner near the door. He snatched it up and looked at James with a mix of surprise and disappointment. "You haven't even sent it yet?"

James ducked his head and refrained from returning the question with an irritated response.

"I hope this means you're planning on taking it up to him yourself, Prongs," Sirius scolded.

"To have him throw it back in my face?" James asked.

"You really think a thirteen-year-old kid is going to turn down a Firebolt?"

"If it's from me, yes."

Sirius simply shook his head and set the broom back in its place. "A pair of asses, both of you…" he grumbled.

"Is that how you treat your date to the ball?" James asked. "By calling me names?"

"Move on, would you?" Sirius pushed him through the door, and they left the cottage on the hillside without further argument before aparating directly in front of a massive garden wall containing a broad, iron gate.

James swore under his breath and prepared himself for what was to come. "Why on earth did it have to be here?"

"Where else would it be?" Sirius shared the same poor feelings about the venue location but wasn't deterred. "Lucius insists on it, and who's going to argue? He has the most space and pays for the whole damn event."

"Which we don't actually have to attend you know." James followed Sirius up to the gate where a guard stood by to take their names before entry.

"Now, now, James," he exchanged his wand for a piece of stiff, decorative parchment out of his pocket. "Wouldn't want to disappoint the minister, would we?"

Both men presented their invitations to the guard and were allowed entry onto the manor grounds. It was a long walk to the commanding front entrance, well-lit by levitating globes of multicolored lights moving over the pristine, manicured hedges and ice sculptures on either side of the path. James and Sirius spotted more strategically-placed guards before catching up to a middle-aged married couple who worked for the Ministry.

"Evening," the husband nodded and shook Black's hand in recognition before studying James' face in the low light. "Ah, Mr. Potter," he appeared surprised. "Delightful to see you, sir."

James returned the nod without any idea who the couple was and no desire to find out.

"Nacissa Malfoy certainly knows how to throw a party, doesn't she?" The wife in gaudy jewels and faux fur flashed an enormous smile around the property.

"Does she?" Sirius asked with over-exaggerated pleasantness. "I'm unfamiliar with the woman."

"Aren't…" she looked confused. "Aren't you cousins?"

"Are we?" Sirius was speaking much too loud, and James found him both humorous and ridiculous.

"Excuse us," he pulled Black away from the couple before they moved up the grand, stone staircase into the front foyer of the manor. "If you expect me to play nice with these people, you have to too."

"I said nothing about playing nice," Sirius responded. "We have to have enjoy this nightmare somehow, don't we?"

The hall was full of conversation and swelling egos under a canopy of magical stars floating within the marble archways. The manor's hosts stood just off to the right in front of the entrance to the grand ballroom greeting their guests with haughty expressions and undisguised pride over their station. Minister Fudge bounced on his heels nearby and tried to look important under the shadow of Lucius Malfoy while droves of desperate hopefuls reached for a chance to shake the hands of the important.

"Look who made an appearance," Lucius turned his cold gaze on James as the crowd around him turned to peer in curiosity. "And I thought your invitation would be wasted, Narissa."

"I wouldn't have missed this for anything, you know that, ol' cousin, Lucy," Sirius jabbed in full awareness that Malfoy had not been speaking to him.

Lucius scowled with deep distaste for his wife's relative, and Narissa's nose inched further into the air as if she had gotten of whiff of something foul in the air.

"Your invitation on the other hand," she told Black, "was a complete mistake."

"As was that dress, darling," Sirius moved past them both and let himself into the ballroom in search of something to refresh himself at the bar.

"Mr. Potter," Minister Fudge fell into step with James as he followed Sirius unto the ballroom and took hold of the man's arm with much more familiarity than existed between the two. "Splendid to see you, young man. I hope this Christmas finds you in good spirits."

"As good as can be expected with your administration still looking for my wife's traitor," James responded coolly.

"Yes, well," Fudge stammered uncomfortably. "Certainly Black has filled you in on our continuous efforts in that regard. We would like nothing more than to see that rat returned to hands of the dementors as soon as possible. He is a stealthy one—"

"Peter has never been anything of the sort," James corrected him shortly.

"Of course _you_ would know," Fudge riled. "You also know the invitation always stands for your return to the office of Auror. Any help you can give us in his capture would be much appreciated."

"Excuse me, Minister," James put space between them as fast as possible and met Sirius at the bar. "Surely we've done our duty and can leave now?" he spoke low with a glance around the room at all the people he had worked so hard to avoid in the past twelve years.

Sirius grinned behind his glass of sherry. "Not having any fun? I don't understand why—ah! Now here's a relative I can stand!" he raised his glass in salute as young Auror recruit, Nyphadora Tonks walked up. "How in Merlin's name did they let you past the gate?"

"Had to, didn't they?" Tonks grinned. "All Ministry employees allowed. Tho' I'm beginin' to regret it," she glanced over her shoulder at her oppressive aunt and uncle still greeting guests at the door. "Tripped over some old geezer's cane and dropped my glass of wine, shattered, all over," she gestured wide with her arms and ended up smacking a gentlemen wizard in the back in doing so. Looking awkward and apologetic, she moved closer to Sirius and accepted a new glass which he offered.

"Here's another," he said. "Next time try and aim for Auntie Cissy's wig."

"She wears a wig?" Tonk's eyes grew wide under her shock of purple hair.

"Only a rumor," Sirius drained his glass. "But one of my best, I must admit."

The news that James Potter was in attendance moved quickly among the guests in the crowded ballroom accompanied by many stares and whispered conversations. The long years of near total seclusion had awarded James a sort of legendary status. Many imagined him some sort of mad warlock growing increasingly unhinged up there in the cottage on the hill working on his experimental magic for the Department of Mysteries.

"What's your latest project then, my man?" One intoxicated member of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes asked while leaning in a little too close and speaking a might bit too loud. "They say you've been working a spell which would detect coercion methods used against secret keepers when divulging unplottables, eh? How would that work exactly? Would 'ave helped you out, wouldn't it, old boy?"

James stiffened under the distasteful touch of the drunken fool who leaned on him for support as he staggered on his feet. "I wouldn't trust everything you hear," he responded stiffly, glancing at Sirius while making his annoyance known with his expression.

"Oh, no no, of course not," the man agreed wholeheartedly. "Useful bit o' magic tho.' You never know who'ta trust these days. A little extra assurance goes a long way, I say."

James nodded with a grimace and pulled himself out of the clutches of the Ministry employee and wished him goodnight. "I'm done here," he spoke low to Sirius.

"Come now, Prongs," Sirius tried to lighten the mood. "The party's just started."

"No one blames you, you know," The drunken man persisted in his obliviousness to James' frustration. "He would have killed you too, quick like lightnin.'" His announcement got the attention of those nearby, and several pairs of eyes landed on them.

James had his heated gaze on the man who suddenly seemed sheepish under all the attention. He swayed on the spot and sloshed whisky from his glass before concluding his speech.

"Well, you understand...I mean, no one survives the wrath of Voldemort."

This quieted the crowd entirely, and even the orchestra in the corner stopped playing at the disturbing mention of the Dark Lord's name. Everyone waited with bated breath for James Potter's response. Sirius fully expected Prongs usual outburst and was as surprised as everybody when he simply smiled.

"No one?" he asked, and the crowed twittered in nervous laughter over the man's intoxicated blunder.

"The Boy Who Lived!" someone shouted from the back of the room to rousing applause.

Nacissa leaned into her husband for a private word with her stony glare focused on the Ministry employee stumbling on his feet looking both ashamed and confused at the same time. Lucius nodded and gestured to one of his guards who quickly moved in and led the man away from the bar.

Sirius laughed and pulled James in for a rough side-armed hug before finishing off his drink and reaching for another round for them both. "See, office Christmas parties can be fun. Cheers, mate! Let's find us some lonely interns and convince them to dance."

* * *

"We should go to the library," Ron Weasley suggested through a bite of sugar cookie in his place by the Common Room fire.

Harry and Hermione both looked up with blank expressions on their faces.

"What?"

"Yeah," Ron considered it with an easy-going nod. "I was thinking I'd look for a spell that would replicate time, you know? Make Christmas every day… You could work it out, right, Hermione?"

She laughed and shook her head before ducking it back over the book she had been reading.

"If we had Christmas every day," Harry pointed out, "when would we play Quidditch?"

This stumped Ron, and he frowned over the conundrum. "After tea," he concluded eventually, and was happy with the solution.

The day had been long and lazy, and Harry had hardly even thought about the fact that he should have been spending Christmas at home with his father and not at Hogwarts. He was grateful for the company of his two best friends, thankful they had decided, for his sake, to spend the holidays at school also. Gryffindor tower was nearly deserted and they had the Common Room all to themselves that evening as the hour drew late. Harry and Ron had already exhausted their efforts over several consecutive games of chess, and now wanted nothing more than to sit and do nothing until bed.

"I found the broom for you, Harry," Ron informed him, holding up a catalog he had been sifting through and showing him the page. Tossing it across the room when Harry held up his hand, Ron directed him to the one he was talking about. Peering at the advertisement under the light of the fire, Harry read the description with a frown. It was another Nimbus, a decent broom, but nowhere near the caliber of the Firebolt.

"Yeah," he shrugged, "maybe." He still had to ask his dad for the gold to buy it, however, and that wasn't something he was ready to do.

The sound of someone entering by the portrait hole drew all of their attention, and the three looked up as Professor McGonagall appeared. "Ah good, Potter," she found who she was looking for immediately. "You have a visitor."

Harry got to his feet just as Sirius walked up behind McGonagall. He was so surprised to see him, Harry forgot that he had demanded that his godfather not come around. "Sirius?" he allowed him to pull him in for a brief, rough hug before Sirius stepped back and greeted Ron and Hermione Merry Christmas. There was a faint scent of alcohol and fresh air about him, and the shoulders of his traveling cloak were damp from melted snow. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to see you," Sirius told Harry plainly while plopping down on the sofa beside Hermione at complete ease with the old, familiar surroundings. "Splendid day for flying."

Harry glanced out the window in bewilderment. Heavy snow fell in blinding, white sheets and piled up on the window pane. "You flew here?"

"No," Sirius replied and put his damp feet up by the roaring fire, "aparated. But you might think so, when you see what I brought." Flicking his wand in the direction of the portrait hole, Sirius summoned a large, thin packaged from where he had left it leaning against the wall.

Harry caught it one-handed as it flew by, and knew immediately what it was and who it was from. Ron's eyes grew wide in understanding also, and he was far more enthusiastic than Harry appeared.

"A new broom! Forget the catalog, that's perfect Harry!"

"Let him open it first," Hermione scolded. "Don't tell him what it is before he sees."

"Like he can't tell," Ron argued.

Harry ignored them with is gaze on Sirius, holding the package without moving to open it. An unspoken conversation passed between godson and godfather as Sirius encouraged him to accept the gift no matter what his feelings were.

"He wanted to bring it himself," he said, shutting both Hermione and Ron up in an instant.

"Then why didn't he?" Harry asked.

"Oh, you expect him to read your mind now?" Sirius responded without any patience for his stubbornness."Or did you not mean what you said? Not that it matters… I told him to ignore your childish demands like a real father would and come no matter what you said, but he insisted on respecting your wishes. Imagine that?"

He held Harry's stare like a dare and waited for him to make the next move.

"Open it," he insisted when Harry still remained motionless. "There's a card attached."

Harry's gaze shifted to Hermione who looked worried, but nodded slightly in encouragement. Turning the package over, he found the card and opened it to find his father's writing on the inside.

_**The finest broom for the finest flyer. Merry Christmas,**_

_** Love, Dad**_

Undoing the binding holding the paper together, Harry let it drop to the floor while the stunning piece of flying equipment remained in his hand.

Ron swore out loud in amazement. "It's a Firebolt. Harry, that's a Firebolt."

"Of course it is," Sirius added proudly. "What else would it be?" He continued to watch his godson who gingerly turned the broom in his hand, getting a feel for the weight of the polished handle which gleamed under the flickering firelight.

Harry could not hide the excitement in his eyes, and a small smile dared to spread at the corner of his mouth.

"Wait 'til that Diggory chap sees you on that," Sirius nodded.

"Forget Diggory," Ron couldn't hide his excitement. "Wait 'til the Slytherins see. Harry we can win the Cup with you on that. There's no doubt now."

"Why not?" Sirius agreed completely.

"Does it scare off dementors too?" Harry responded sardonically, but was smiling fully now and itching to take the broom out for a test fly. It was too bad it was snowing so heavily.

"Don't worry about them," Sirius told him. "They won't enter school grounds again. I can promise that."

Ron begged for a chance to hold the Firebolt, and Harry passed it off before walking with Sirius to the Common Room entrance to see him off.

"Thanks," he told him, "for bringing it."

His godfather nodded and put a warm hand on Harry's shoulder. "I would apologize for not being more honest with you about your dad, but you know it wasn't my place to do so."

Harry knew it, and he didn't blame Sirius. Not anymore.

"Try to forgive him too," he continued. "He was only always trying to do what he thought was the right thing."

Harry didn't respond to that, standing back and watching Sirius slip out through the portrait hole and into the corridor.

"Come on, Harry!" Ron called him back. "How about a quick run?"

"It's dark and snowing," Hermione said reasonably as Harry returned to the fire and took the broom from Ron again.

"We'll wear our Christmas jumpers from Mum," Ron had an answer to everything. "Aren't you jealous you don't have one now?"

"Yes, terribly," she responded sarcastically. "Harry, you take that broom out tonight I'll tell McGonagall. You know you're not supposed to be out on the grounds by yourself."

Ron's glare narrowed in disgust. "Some friend you are."

Harry wanted to take the Firebolt out as much as Ron, but admitted it was not the right time. Although he did not appreciate Hermione bringing up the threat of Wormtail when he had been enjoying his Christmas without so much as a thought of the rat all day. "We'll take it out tomorrow," he promised Ron. "_With_ McGonagall's permission," he pacified Hermione as well and spent the rest of the night looking over ever inch and tail twig of the Firebolt with Ron until it was as familiar as the scar on his forehead.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN- It's taken me a while to write between chapters, as I have been busy. Thank you for your patience! This chapter contains some word-for-word lines taken straight from Prisoner of Azkaban, they are the property of JK Rowling, and I hold no claim over them. Thank you for reading!**

**Pratronus**

"I am not entirely comfortable with this, Harry." Professor Lupin pushed the boggart-filled packing case onto the desk in front of him. "You're certain your father won't mind?"

Harry shrugged, not really caring either way. He only hoped that Lupin wouldn't back out on his promise to teach him how to fight off the dementors. He needed to know. He needed to be ready for his next Quidditch match.

"Did you consider asking him to show you?" Lupin asked, watching Harry carefully but without any tell-tale expression of his own. "Or Sirius? They are quite skilled at Patronus spells. Perhaps more than I."

Shaking his head, Harry's jaw stiffened defiantly as he tightened his grip on his wand and waited for instructions on what to do. "I doubt it," he muttered. Sirius maybe, but James couldn't possibly be an expert on that particular incantation. "Dad doesn't use his anymore."

Lupin's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Not at all? Surely he—"

Harry interrupted him with another shake of his head. "I don't think he can. At least…I've never seen it."

Lupin considered this with a frown for a moment before nodding shortly and turning back to the trunk. "Alright Harry, I'm willing to teach you so long as I don't get word from your father not to, understood?"

"Yes, sir." As long as James never found out, that wouldn't be an issue.

Lupin readied his own wand and began the lesson.

* * *

A large black dog quickly sniffed around the base of a massive willow tree before running off out of range of the whipping branches. Moments before the vicious limbs had stood quite still as if under instructions to do so, but whatever had held them in check did not last inevitably. The dog stood by and watched the tree churn in anger. Panting with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, the canine seemed to regard the willow as an old foe, a nuisance more than a challenge. Touching his long snout to the ground, he searched the dry grass and clumps of dirty snow around his feet for scent before sauntering away from the tree and the castle behind it.

Along the edge of the great forest boarding Hogwarts, Padfoot hesitated with an interest on something in the mud. Bones, tiny ones picked clean and left crushed in the quagmire. Pawing several bones loose from the ground, the dog then transformed into human, and Sirius squatted near the bone pile and carefully picked through them with a scrutinizing frown. Keeping hold on the minuscule skull of the departed animal, Sirius moved around the gnarled roots of a nearby tree and confirmed his suspicions. Scattered ashes, clumps of burnt deadwood, tufts of fur torn loose from animal carcass, all left out in the open for anyone to find.

"Bloody fool," Sirius turned and looked back over the school grounds up to the castle. From there he had full view of Hogwarts and Gryffindor Tower. "Where are you, you little bastard?" Growling in frustration, Sirius glanced around his feet one last time before pocketing the animal skull and moving on in the direction of the front gates.

The wingtips of the boar statues flanking both sides of the iron gate appeared through a break in the trees as Sirius felt an instant chill slice through his core. Catching his breath, he forced every good and wholesome memory to the forefront of his mind in an effort not to lose control of his senses. Breaking out in a cold sweat, Sirius stopped within four meters of the main entrance to the school grounds, unable to will his feet to go any further.

"Blast those cloaked demons," a gruff, irritated voice broke through the fog which seemed to obscure Black's conscious. He blinked and looked up as a group of parents decked in opposing blue and scarlet trudged up the muddy path toward the school. "Can't Dumbledore keep them from hanging around the gate just for one match?"

The group moved by Sirius to go search for good seats to watch their children compete on the Quidditch pitch. A familiar face nodded in passing with a warm greeting despite the disheartening effects of the recent run-in with the dementors on the other side of the gate. The sun was out, there was an anticipated match to attend and, dementors or not, the group was determined to make it a good day.

Sirius kept back to allow them all to pass before glancing back at the gates in time to see James step through them. He looked a little pale but otherwise unbothered by the Azkaban minions as he moved quickly up the path to where Sirius stood waiting.

"You look like death, Padfoot."

"Good to see you too," Black returned the greeting. "They had better stay on the far side of the fence today." He shot an ungracious look over their shoulder as they began to follow the crowd gathering in the Quidditch stands.

"They're hungry, no doubt," James agreed. "But I think Dumbledore's anger from last time has them in their place."

"Forgiven him, have you?"

"I never held a grudge," James was sure despite Sirius' skepticism. "The dementors should be under Fudge's jurisdiction."

"Should be… Ah, come now, Prongs," Padfoot grumbled in disgust upon noticing which direction James chose to go in search of a seat before the start of the game. "Don't play into Harry's childishness."

"I don't want to upset him more," James shook his head and continued on away from the parents' section to a more remote seating area high up in the stands. "He sees me here it could throw off his game." James had considered not showing up at all but found himself unable to resist seeing Harry fly on the Firebolt for the first time.

"Perhaps we should have come incognito then," Sirius responded facetiously. "Prongs and Padfoot hiding out in the woods with a pair of eyeglasses like spies. Did you ever consider that your absence could throw of his game even more?"

James frowned but took a seat on the highest bench regardless. "He told me not to come. He's not expecting me. He won't be looking."

* * *

Harry scanned the faces in the crowd as he walked with his team to where the Ravenclaws already stood in the center of the field. He found his gaze moving automatically to the parents' bleachers and felt a knot grow in his stomach briefly. No Dad. No Sirius. He was sure at least his godfather would show, and this betrayal almost hurt worse than the fact that his father actually regarded his wishes.

"_It's your fault,"_ he kicked himself inwardly, but he couldn't push aside the hurt balled up like a sour pit in his stomach. Concentrating on the task at hand, he looked over the opposing team and landed on Ravenclaw's Seeker, Cho Chang.

Within minutes, Madame Hooch had sounded the whistle, and Harry didn't have time to think of his dad, Sirius, or opposing Seekers no matter how pretty they were. It was time to fly, and never before during a match had flying been that smooth or felt that good. It was hard to be competitive and a gentlemen at the same time, and Harry found it difficult to play with his usual aggressiveness against Cho. Catching sight of her hurtling toward the Snitch was enough to get him moving. There was nothing to slow him down on his Firebolt. Not even the three, dark, hooded, hulking forms moving towards him across the field below.

* * *

James saw the dementors at the same time as his son. He immediately got to his feet as if he could prevent something from happening from that far away with his wand still tucked away in his pocket.

"Ah, hell," Sirius stood up as well. "What is this?" He was furious by the interruption. Catching sight of Harry pull out his wand, he put up a hand as if to stop him. "Wait!"

It didn't make any difference. Harry couldn't hear him, and it was too late. The spell was cast and the cloaked figures knocked off their feet as Harry's fingers clamped around the Snitch mid-flight. The crowd roared as Gryffindor was named the winner, and Sirius slumped into his seat with a dazed look.

"Those weren't dementors," he muttered. He expected a reaction out of James but got none. Prongs stood rooted to the spot, his face blank and unblinking on the spot where Harry's weak but effective Patronus charm had fallen. "James," Sirius nudged him. "Mate, he's alright. Harry won, they weren't real dementors. It's alright."

It took another moment for James to react, but eventually he turned to his friend and broke away from his reverie. Amid the crazed crowd of spectators, he watched his son receive the praise of team and schoolmates while they celebrated their win.

* * *

Harry struggled to stay on his feet as the crowd pressed in with encouraging pats on the back and enthusiastic praise for his catch. Over the heads of his teammates, he noticed his the outline of two figures standing alone on the topmost row of bleachers. The realization that his father was there caused Harry's stomach to flip, and he took a reactionary step forward.

"Well done, Harry," Lupin appeared and shook Harry's hand in congratulations.

"Professor," he blinked and gave Lupin his attention for a moment before glancing back at the bleachers. The top row was empty and a search of the crowd brought no further sign of James or Sirius. "Professor I..." Harry stammered and refocused his attention. "The dementors, they didn't affect me at all."

"That could be because they-er-weren't dementors at all," said Professor Lupin. "Come and see-"

Harry, confused and exhillerated by the events of the match, followed Lupin and forgot to look one last time in the crowd for his father.

* * *

"He cast a Patronus," James said moments later as he and Sirius walked back to the front gates of the school grounds.

"Well," Sirius shrugged, "it wasn't a _full_ Patronus."

James passed him an ungracious look, but let it go. "When did we learn those in school? Sixth year?"

"At least," Sirius couldn't remember either but knew it wasn't during third year like Harry. "Maybe Dumbledore taught him."

James considered this without speaking for several moments before muttering mainly to himself. "Amazing…"

"Those dementor impostors were certainly taken off guard, weren't they?" Sirius agreed humorously. "Three Broomsticks then?"

James shook his head. "Not today, I'm afraid."

"Fine," Sirius wasn't bothered. "I should get back to work anyway. You might find this interesting," he pulled out the animal skull and held it up for James to see. "He's been lurking alright, and eating his own kind, filthy the cannibalistic parasite. Getting careless though. He'll be easier to track now with the ground so wet."

"Good," James was just as interested as Sirius, but too distracted to offer more.

"I'll be gone a bit," Black informed him. "I think I'll spend a few days out," he nodded in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. "See what else I can find. I'll drop in with news when I can."

"And bring the mud and grime with you, I expect," James returned with a lighthearted jab before stepping toward the gate alone.

"You can hose me off in the garden then," Sirius grinned. "Maybe I'll bring you home a rat in a cage."

"See that you do." James tightened the clasp on his traveling cloak, passed through the gate, and disaparated.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: It has been a long time since I posted anything; it has been a busy summer. This chapter is short, but I'm trying to propel the story along to more exciting chapters near the end without leaving to large of gaps in the story-line. Hope you still enjoy it!**

**Evening at Hogwarts**

Remus Lupin sat behind the piles of clutter on his desk staring, not at the piece of parchment laid out in front of him, but beyond it with a vacant expression. The sound of popping bubbles hitting the surface of the grimy water in the grindylow tank mixed with periodic knocking against wood from inside a locked case on the floor across the room. The low afternoon sun fell in a dusty ray through the window and landed on the detailed map which the professor had been studying. Hundreds of tiny black names moved from one location on the map to the other.

Pulling out of his deep reverie, Lupin rubbed his weary face with a calloused hand and searched his desk for his wand. In the process, the map nearly slid off a pile of ungraded essays, and he reached out and caught it before it fell to the floor. At the same moment his eye caught on a name moving at a steady pace on a section of the map marked Defense Against the Dark Arts. Before Lupin glanced up at his office door to greet the visitor approaching on the other side, he tapped the map with his wand, muttered a hurried phrase under his breath, and tucked the parchment out of sight within a drawer.

"Evening, Remus," Severus Snape appeared without bothering to knock. "You were not in the Hall this evening."

"No," Lupin replied. "I wasn't hungry. But what do I owe this pleasure? I am not due for another round of potion quite yet."

"I have just left the headmaster," Snape explained, standing erect and formal beside the empty seat Lupin offered. "He would like to see you at your earliest convenience." It was difficult to tell which the potion master loathed more, the low position of messenger which Dumbledore had placed him in or the fact that the headmaster desired private council with the likes of Remus Lupin. Either way, Snape appeared as though he detested having to set foot in the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office for even as brief a period as that.

"Thank you for alerting me," Lupin rose to answer Dumbledore's request, straightening his rumpled robes in an effort to look presentable.

Snape sneered. It was a task that would take a great deal more than straightening in his opinion. "I didn't get the impression he was asking you to tea."

Lupin laughed without humor. "It's a losing battle, I know. Still, he is the headmaster. There's no wrong in cleaning up a bit." He ran his wand across the length of his robe and succeeded in removing a few of the wrinkles at least.

"Charming," Snape muttered and turned to leave.

"The upcoming match should be exciting, no doubt." Lupin followed him out the door and tossed a spell over his shoulder to lock his office in his absence.

Snape was not sure why the man insisted on acting sociable. There was no excuse for it, and it was more than a little insulting. "That will all depend on the level of cheating Potter plans to employ," he responded stiffly.

"I do not think cheating is in Potter's character."

"You were never the finest judge of that, to be sure."

Lupin gave a wan smile in response. A smile Severus missed as he passed first through the classroom door out into the adjoining corridor.

"I'll admit Harry's Seeking tactics are creative, but—"

"Creative?" Snape scoffed. "Swallowing a Snitch is not a tactic. It was a poor move that should have disqualified the whole team."

Lupin managed a real chuckle. "And handed the win to Slytherin, yes, yes, I did hear about that match. Your house has been given a run for their Galleons since Harry joined Gryffindor."

Snape's expression turned a deeper shade of loathing.

"Like I said, it should be a very exciting match." Lupin turned to walk in the direction of the headmaster's office.

"Does James know that it was you who taught his son how to perform a Patronus?" Snape stopped him in his tracks with the accusatory question.

Lupin turned slowly on the spot and forced a smile. He wasn't about to let the likes of Severus Snape get to him. He could push all he wanted. Remus had no desire to duel with that man on any level. He wasn't James, he wasn't Sirius. He was too old and too tired for childhood feuds.

"Does he know?" he repeated Snape's question lightly followed by a careless shrug. "Perhaps, but if he does it was not me who enlightened him. If Harry chooses to, it is his place to do so, and only his."

"Indeed," Snape didn't care for this answer. "Isn't it interesting?" he tried another approach. "That a thirteen-year-old wizard is able to produce a complicated spell such as that when his father cannot?"

"Just because James doesn't use his Patronus, doesn't mean he can't," Lupin responded.

"Yes, of course," Snape sneered once again. "What need does the father of the Boy Who Lived have with one of the most powerful protective charms in existence?"

"Apparently none," Lupin wasn't thrown. "Indeed, Harry has proven to be quite adept at protecting himself. After Gryffindor's last match, I think a few members of your own house can attest to that. Good evening, Severus." Remus took his leave and turned the corner at the end of the corridor. Approaching from the other direction, the professor spotted Ron, Hermione and Harry walking towards him. He passed them a comfortable smile and nodded in greeting. "Finished with dinner already?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione responded with a smile. "Just about to get a head start on that essay you assigned."

"Not too much of a start, I hope," he said. "It's not due until next week. Take it easy, you three."

"You too, Professor." Harry watched him walk away. Every encounter with Lupin since the run-in with Snape and the Marauder's Map made Harry a little uncomfortable. He wished he had not been so foolish and lost the map in the first place but, more than anything, he wished he hadn't disappointed Lupin.

Feeling a renewed sense of shame, Harry followed Ron and Hermione around the corner right into the path of Professor Snape who, oddly, was simply standing outside the DADA classroom door like a dark and brooding statue.

Snape looked up at the sight of them, his usual scowl quickly turning into a snarl. "Where are you three going?" he demanded.

"The library," Harry answered shortly. Snape's nosiness was the whole reason he had lost the map in the first place. It was easy to turn shame into anger when it was directed at Snape.

The potion master looked as though he wasn't inclined to believe their excuse, but only frowned deeper before motioning curtly for them to move on. "Go there directly. No wandering or dilly-dallying."

They did as they were told, and Ron waited until they were out of earshot before berating Snape. "Dilly-dallying?" he snorted in disgust. "And what was he doing, I'd like to know? Does he want Lupin's job that bad that he feels the need to lurk outside the classroom? I mean, it _is_ a little suspicious."

"Like making Lupin poisoned potion," Harry agreed.

"The potion wasn't poisoned, Harry," Hermione corrected him with a roll of her eyes. "Professor Lupin _is_ still alive."

"But looks bloody awful most of the time, doesn't he?" Ron was with Harry on that one.

Hermione emitted an exasperated grunt but said no more as they had reached the library and immediately received a sharp look from Madame Pince warning them to keep quiet.

The three of them found an open table and pulled out parchment, quills and ink to begin their homework. The library was crowded with groups of students studying or conversing at their tables in whispers. Harry had hoped that working there opposed to the common room would help him concentrated on his mountains of homework rather than the upcoming match against Slytherin. Most of Harry's teammates had returned to Gryffindor tower after dinner, and he wasn't in the mood for anymore impromptu strategy sessions from Wood.

"Harry!" a raised whisper from two tables away got his attention, and Harry looked over his shoulder to see Ginny Weasley waving a rather colorful pamphlet at him. "Have you seen—" She broke off and glanced up after noticing the lurking shadow of Madame Pince over her shoulder. "My apologies, Madame," Ginny plastered on an expression of innocence. "So, sorry."

Without waiting for Pince to chastise her for interrupting the sacred tranquility of the library, Ginny got up and quickly moved to Harry, Hermione, and Ron's table, edging her way into the small space between Harry and Ron.

"Excuse me," Ron snapped in disgust.

"You're excused," Ginny responded and shoved the pamphlet in Harry's face, ignoring Ron's dirty look. "Have you seen Quality Quidditch's new spring catalog?"

"I didn't know it was out yet." Harry turned it right side up for a closer look.

"How did you get one?" Ron demanded.

"They've just come out with a warming band attachment to correct the problem Firebolt has shown performing in icy conditions," Ginny told Harry rapidly.

"Problem Firebolt…" Ron scoffed as if the two words in correlation were impossible.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry agreed with Ginny. "I've felt that. The reaction time is slower. It definitely freezes up a bit." He looked at the advertisement Ginny pointed to.

"It's adjustable and is made with unicorn hair so it's weightless." She gave Harry the details. "Some say it even gives an extra edge to breakaway speed, but the Firebolt already tops that against the competition, so many critics argue that's complete nonsense. The bands aren't allowed in pro matches for unfair advantage, but maybe Madame Hooch will let you. Even just for those really tough weather matches, you know?"

"Yeah," Harry was impressed. If only the warming band didn't come with such a high price tag. "It'd be great, but—"

"Harry doesn't need extra attachments," Ron whipped the catalog away briskly with an expression of annoyance for his sister. "Just having the Firebolt is enough against the likes of Malfoy. He's the best flyer in school history."

"Thank you for the reminder, Ronald," Ginny snatched the catalog back and flipped to a different page. "Gwenog Jones just came out with a new line of scented handle oil which improves grip and doesn't absorb rain. There's a vanilla and pomegranate one—"

"Ooh pomegranate?" Hermione's ears perked up.

"Merlin, help us," Ron muttered into his Transfiguration homework with his head slumped on the table.

"Can I barrow this, Ginny?" Harry asked and reached for the booklet of advertisements.

"Sure!" she smiled and handed it over, speaking a little too loud and drawing the attention of Madame Pince again.

"Thanks," Harry watched her hurry back to her table of second years before returning to the flashy pictures of brooms and accessories. He didn't care an inch about pomegranates, but there was plenty of other interesting devices, add-ons, and broom care items to look at. So much for a homework driven, Quidditch free evening. Harry wasn't going to get a head start on Lupin's essay that night.


End file.
